By The Void's Will
by Rasmiu
Summary: He was a 'vessel', as stated by the Prophet. A caged bird, with dulled talons and clipped wings, bound to the one that captured him. The only thing he knows, is that he needs to escape before his time finally runs out. MalzaharxTalon. Rated for violence and future sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello everyone! This is the first story I'm deciding to actually publish on here, though certainly not the first story I've ever written. I do hope you enjoy it! _

_Also, just to mention: I am going by the idea that the champions have not met one another, unless they are from the same cities. Figure as if the League does not exist just yet, just to make things easier for the course of this story. _

_This** will** be a male/male pairing story featuring Malzahar and Talon, so if that does not interest you, please turn back. No sense reading something you don't like! Though I will place a word of warning when anything NSFW happens, so those that wish can skip by those parts._

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**Chapter I.**

It was late. The full moon had already risen high into the dark navy sky, cascading the sandy dunes below in a blanket of pure, soft light. Amongst those dunes, guided by that light, a lone man traveled.

He was walking briskly, as fast as his legs could possibly take him across the sand without stumbling. For hours now he had been searching - searching for the target that he had been assigned to assassinate. This job was never easy, that was for certain; though, this time it was particularly difficult.

The night air of the Shurima Desert was cold enough to chill even the strongest of men to their very bones. The occasional breeze didn't help matters, considering it often blew around small streams of sand that whipped the Noxian's face and sometimes left him sputtering to get the sand out of his mouth. It was uncomfortable, if anything, but he had certainly been through worse.

Indeed, Talon Du Couteau, one of the highest sought after assassins of Noxus had been assigned this mission, and from the way Swain made it out to be, it was a mission of utmost importance. Of course, the old General always made things seem far more important than they were. Whether it be because of the whole 'Master Tactician' thing or not, it usually just got on the assassin's nerves.

Talon never was one for being rushed, especially by someone he didn't like too much in the first place.

As another breeze tore through the air, Talon didn't hesitate to pull the brown cloak tighter around himself. Before leaving, he had taken the thick cloak with him, using it as a shield from the sand and the cool winds. It was one he frequently used during his missions in Freljord, and it was certainly made use of here; the way its hood covered the top half of his face was also rather nice, the assassin preferring to conceal his eyes more often than not.

Best to conceal things that can easily show weakness, or so he always thought.

His hawk-like gaze turned forward, gazing across the dunes in search of any sort of lead, or perhaps another figure that was also lingering within the desert. The details of the mission were rather vague, a proper description not even being provided – considering it was scrawled out by none other than Darius himself, Talon hadn't expected much, in all honesty. Only thing he had to go by was that the man he was seeking was mysterious, tall, and wearing a thick cloak that covered his entire body.

'Course, a lot of people in Shurima wore cloaks, so it was rather hard to pinpoint the exact person. Though, none of them were crazy enough to traverse the desert at night, so it certainly made it easier. This person was said to roam the desert on the night of the full moon, as though searching for something in particular.

Talon huffed in annoyance as he almost stumbled and dropped to his knees, managing to regain his balance by stepping forward quickly and pushing himself flat onto his feet. Dark brown orbs showed his annoyance quite clearly underneath the hood that concealed them, his mind focused purely on the mission at hand. Even as a sharp banshee-like wail pierced through the night sky, Talon didn't flinch in the slightest.

Shurima was known for its hauntings, but the assassin wasn't all that afraid of ghosts.

Just then, something caught his attention in the distance, his eyes immediately focusing on a large pyramid that spanned across a large dune. For a moment, a soft blue glow came from what looked to be the entrance, a low growl coming from Talon's throat as he picked up his pace and stepped quickly through the sands. It was something, at least; even if it wasn't his target, he hoped to at least find _something, _even if that something was as miniscule as a piece of shattered glass glowing in the moonlight.

Except, the assassin certainly wasn't known for his luck.

Upon arriving at the pyramid's face, Talon slowed his step to observe the area. There was nothing abnormal anywhere, even as he sifted through the sand, nothing was turned up. Not_ even_ a small piece of glass.

Under his breath, the assassin cursed in anger. His hopes were dashed by the false lead that his eyes had spotted in the distance. Of course, at this moment he was currently passing it off as him just losing his mind from the desert chill; hallucinations were frequent, after all.

In frustration, Talon kicked the sand below his feet, scuffing up a large amount of sand grains into the air in front of him. How... annoying, the assassin thought, expression contorting into one of sheer frustration. There was nothing here at all, just like always.

Eyes were known to be deceiving within the desert.

"You seem to be lost, assassin."

The sudden presence of a new voice caused Talon to whirl around, meeting the gaze of a tall cloaked figure with turquoise eyes. Those eyes... they seemed to glow in the darkness of the night, and as they stared at the assassin, he couldn't help but take a step back. There was an air of malevolence about the man that stood merely feet away from him, and it made his skin crawl - not just because he seemed to appear out of thin air, but because he was tall enough to loom over the Noxian with ease, and his glowing eyes certainly didn't help.

But that wasn't the thing that set the assassin into high alarm.

It was the fact that this man fit the exact description of the man he had been chosen to assassinate.

A deep, royal purple cloak shrouded the tall form's figure, the ends sprawling across the ground beneath him like a waterfall. A lighter purple scarf and hood were present on his shoulders, scarf being thickly wrapped to only barely conceal an equally purple facemask that covered the lower half of his young face. But, the thing that was most peculiar about this man were the softly glowing runes that adorned several areas of his outfit, glowing a bright blue, just like his eyes.

Thoughts began to rush through Talon's head all at once, rushing around like a freight train as he tried to weigh his options. To run and attempt to gain a higher ground while keeping the man in sight... or to take a risk and strike here. Either way, it was going to be risky, his hand clenching tightly onto the armblade that was concealed underneath the thick brown cloak that shrouded him.

"There is no need for violence, Talon," Hearing his name spoken, a small gasp of surprise came from Talon's throat, the man's eyes seeming to narrow as a grin found its way to his lips underneath the mask, "I know exactly why you are here. I, also, regret to inform you, that you will not be completing this mission... at least, not today."

"You... how do you know of my name?!" Talon growled, voice laced with venom as his defensive walls naturally showed themselves. "...Just who are you?!"

"My name is not of importance at this moment." The man simply stated, figure floating closer to the young assassin, who proceeded to back up until his back met with the cool surface of the pyramid's stone exterior, "As for how I know _yours, _however... Have you not heard of the many seers that inhabit the lands of Shurima? Had you done your research, you would have expected a... _select few_ to know your name, Talon."

Talon's eyes flicked around as his thoughts became quicker. A headache was quickly growing as confusion set in, trying to process why exactly seers of all people would even **want** to know his name. His responses only caused the 'seer' in front of him to chuckle darkly, raising a hand from his deep purple cloak and placing it on Talon's shoulder.

Dark eyes darted to the gloved hand that gripped his shoulder like an iron clasp, attempting to shrug his shoulder away, but to no avail. This man held onto him tightly, tight enough to make the assassin wince in pain as his muscles were forcefully pressed. What's more, the pressure was enough to keep his arm from moving without sustaining a bit of damage.

"Why should my name be of any importance...?" Talon forced himself to ask, the prophet's eyes staring into his own like a dagger that seemed to stab into his very soul.

"Because you, dear assassin... are a 'key'. A vessel. And you shall be assisting me." His second shoulder was grasped onto, and before the assassin knew it, he was being slowly lifted into the air by this man, "Whether that fact pleases you or not, I do not care. ...A letter has been sent to your residence, stating that you shall not be returning due to... dire circumstances. Thus, no one will be expecting you for a long, long while..."

Talon could almost feel the wicked grin that was plastered all over this man's face. The malevolent aura that assisted him was certainly growing stronger by the moment, his words not at all helping to ease it. The assassin knew now that he should have ran given the chance, rather than choosing to stay and attempt to strike once the male's guard was lowered.

He had been caught out in open field, with no shadows to hide within until the right moment arose.

Now, here he was, being held by this man and dangled high above the sands of Shurima, body completely frozen as if held by an unseen entity. Soon, he even found himself gasping for air as a thick grip latched onto his neck and applied heavy pressure. Shakily, his left hand found home on the prophet's wrist, grasping as tight as he possibly could as if to ease the force that was applying pressure to his neck.

The man simply titled his head, blue orbs seeming to glow brighter as the life force of the assassin seemed to fade along with his breath. As Talon's gaze met with his, his mind began to grow numb as his body began to relax itself and grow weak. Becoming lost within the ocean of blue that was staring at him, a feeling of reassurance flooded his mind.

He wasn't sure if this was some sort of spell being placed upon him by this man, but he certainly didn't seem to care. As he drew in a last, desperate gasp for breath, his hand slid from the prophet's wrist and fell limp at his side, dark eyes slowly closing as his body succumbed to unconsciousness from the lack of oxygen in his lungs. The last thing Talon saw before the world went dark were those blue eyes continuing to stare, their image lingering in his mind even after his eyes closed.

That, and a single, disembodied whisper that made its way to his ears - spoken quietly, and with urgency.

_Malzahar._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

By the time Talon had awoken, darkness had already fallen once more over the dunes of Shurima. Several times the assassin blinked, still trying to grasp onto consciousness and will himself to move from the position in which he lay. The bed that he was occupying was warm, and quite soft - begging for him to remain in place rather than sitting up and moving away.

Except, this was rather _odd, _he soon noticed.

Talon certainly didn't remember going to sleep in a place with a sandy colored roof, nor did he remember his bed ever being this soft. His bed sheet, last he remembered, also wasn't a deep purple cloak. Dark eyes merely stared at the single article of clothing that was draped over his torso, running from his chest to a good way past his feet, before he abruptly tore it off and left it in a heap on the far side of the mattress.

Then, he coughed, sitting up as a sudden, dulled pain filled his throat.

A low huff escaped his pursed lips as he rubbed the tender flesh of his neck, remembering the way the cloaked man had nearly strangled him to death. His throat was definitely aching, perhaps even bruised, given the force that had been applied to it. Which, brought another odd fact to his thoughts - why was he still alive?

Normally, those he were assigned to assassinate would jump at the chance to kill _him_ before he killed _them_.

His gloved hand lowered to his side, keeping himself from irritating his throat further. It was rather annoying, but able to be easily dealt with - yet, the assassin soon realized that a bruised throat was the least of his current worries. A single sound was all it took to make the assassin's blood run cold.

The sound of clinking chains.

Both of his wrists were bound by two firmly set shackles, stuck so tight that they wouldn't even turn a single inch when trying to shift them around. A long rope of chain was attached to each shackle, pinned to the far wall with an iron bolt. He was a prisoner.

Panicked, the assassin stood, testing the length of the chains and filling the room with a loud metallic rattling as he moved as far as he could. The room wasn't too large, merely a simple square in shape, and the length of the chains only extended to the arch shaped doorway that led out into a dark hallway. Whoever put him here had meant for him to stay, that was for certain; though he was sure that it was the same man that he had met last night.

The target that he had failed to assassinate.

Yet as he stopped and thought, his mind recalled the whisper of a word, seemingly a name, before darkness claimed him. A strange name, he thought; one that he certainly had not heard of before. Perhaps it was the name of that man...? 'Malzahar'... yes, in a way, that did seem rather fitting.

Fitting for a creepy, shrouded man that stalked the desert at night.

A frustrated huff came from Talon's lips as he sat down on the end of the bed, holding his head in his hands. His blades were gone, and so was his cape; any method to defend himself had vanished, and without them, he felt bare. Not to say he couldn't throw a good punch when needed, but his fists certainly weren't his strong points - nor were his kicks.

Thus, he did the only thing he could. His dark eyes began to scan the room, though they didn't come across much. A single dresser, nightstand, and a chest for storing items were all that lie within the bedroom - both, of which, were empty when the assassin checked them.

Though, the small oval window that made its home on the far left wall near the doorway did manage to catch Talon's interest.

Hesitantly, the rogue drew close to the window, finding it rather easy to reach due to the gracious length of the chains. His hands gripped onto the smooth stone, finding that he could fit his head outside with ease. However the outside certainly didn't give much, nothing but desert spanned in the distance, not a single pyramid or homestead in sight.

Yet if he could just find a way to remove these chains, this window could be his ticket to freedom.

"You should remove the thought of escaping from your mind. It will make it easier on your mental health as you stay here."

That familiar spectral voice chimed into Talon's ears, growling as he bumped his head on the top of the window in surprise as he drew it back in. Rubbing the back of his head, he turned to face the doorway, spotting a figure standing just down the hall. It only moved once the assassin had spotted it, soon coming into the room and with that, into view as the darkness no longer concealed him.

The same man, although lacking a cape to shroud his muscular, yet graceful figure, stood next to Talon.

"Did you have a nice rest? You slept the entire day, and night, away."

His question was met with silence, the assassin simply turning his head away to avoid the piercing gaze of the other man.

"Last time I checked, you had a voice..." Talon scowled as his chin was grabbed, head forced around so his dark eyes locked with the glowing blue orbs once more, "Use it. Answer me when I speak to you."

"I see no reason to spend time idly chit-chatting with the one who's put me in chains like a dog." Talon spat, words coming out a little more harsher than he intended, but they were the truth; right now, he was angry, and he wanted the other to realize that.

Though, it didn't take much for said man _to _realize that. Upon closer inspection, there was a small fire gleaming in Talon's eyes that made him stop and stare into them for a short moment. The assassin certainly was passionate, a little grumpy, sure, but the sheer willpower his eyes held alone was quite impressive.

"Yet, is that not what you are? A _dog. _A mangy, street roaming mutt that was taken in by a noble through sheer luck. Even now, you trail after his heels like a lost pup. You don't even have a direction to go; you're wandering blindly and doing nothing but _hoping _you will somehow gain a lead as to his whereabouts." Malzahar retaliated with an equal amount of aggression, allowing the assassin to know that he would not simply be spoken down to without a fight, "What have you to gain by finding General Marcus Du Couteau? Are you hoping for a medal?! Why do you not reclaim the freedom you once held?"

Malzahar's words left Talon wide-eyed, frozen in place like a statue. His limbs had fallen down to his sides, brow narrowing as he thought about all that was said. It was true, he didn't have a lead, nor a direction... he _was _wandering blindly, but all for good reason.

He made a promise to find the General. Not just for his sake, but for the sake of his daughters and the entirety of Noxus. Without him... Noxus was slowly crumbling under Swain's rule; the tyrant couldn't run a city-state if he possessed all the knowledge in Runeterra.

The fact the Prophet somehow knew of this, however... really unsettled the assassin.

"My purpose is to protect the General; I am indebted to him for sparing my life and giving me a home. He took me from the streets, recognized my abilities, and put them to good use. I made a promise that I would return him to Noxus safe and sound... I am not a man that goes back on his promises." Talon's voice, though trying to remain calm, shook with anger as he spoke. Anger that he was being belittled by the prophet. "That is all you need to know."

A scoff was all he was given in response, the grip on his chin being released as Malzahar took a step back. His head shook, eyes narrowing as they continued to focus on the assassin's face. Truly a lively one, he was.

"You are a man of promises... yet, you are from Noxus?" Malzahar questioned, face contorting into a look of inquiry.

"What of it?"

"It is... ironic, given what I have been told, and seen of your city. It a home of thieves, street rats and thugs; who taught _you_ about keeping promises?"

Malzahar's question made Talon snarl.

"Don't group me up with those imbeciles. I'm not a thug. Far from it." Talon's voice was laced with venom, "Thief... I will accept. Thug? _Absolutely not_."

"Very well..." Malzahar held a smile, despite the menacing tone the other's voice held, "One thing, however, still interests me about you, Talon... I simply do not understand why you haven't reclaimed your freedom."

"Of course you don't," Talon scoffed, leaning against the wall and raising his arms so the chains on his wrists were plainly visible. "How could you understand the concept of freedom, when you have me chained up like a prisoner?"

Although he had expected to be lashed out at for such a remark, that sort of response never came. Instead, the Prophet gave a dark chuckle, hints of scheming and amusement riddling the single action. It made Talon's skin crawl, knowing that this man was a lot crazier than he looked.

"Quite the sarcastic one, aren't you?" Malzahar grinned, waving the thought away with a smug glance at the young assassin and a nonchalant wave of his hand. "No matter. I do hope you will learn to like it here, Talon. You will be staying for a while."

"Don't count on it."

As Malzahar walked over and grabbed his dark cloak from the bed, Talon's hawk-like eyes didn't once leave his form. He watched as he wrapped it neatly, precisely, around his figure, before turning and walking from the room. Not a single farewell was exchanged between the two, the home's silence only being shattered by the faint sound of the front door creaking as it opened and shut.

Releasing an irritated sigh, Talon stomped over to the bed and flopped onto it, curling his arms over the single pillow as he lay on his stomach. His eyes were lowered into a look of sheer anger, focused on the wooden headboard directly in front of him. The Prophet was certainly a piece of work - a very, _very_ annoying piece of work.

Yet, they would need to learn to tolerate one another, Talon knew - it was something that couldn't be helped. But that _didn't_ mean he was going to enjoy it. There was nothing enjoyable about the Seer's presence.

A scowl formed the assassin's current expression.

The second he would get his chance, he would complete his mission and slit the throat of the Prophet without remorse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter III**

Throughout the night, as the moon rose high into the darkened sky, a certain assassin tossed and turned on the small bed that he currently occupied. Dreams were conflicting his thoughts, nightmares of a seemingly different dimension where ghastly beasts roamed free plagued his mind. It was a place spoken of in fairy tales, a place that seemed too unbelievable to be true.

A cold sweat had formed on his brow from seeing the horrors that crawled around the vast empty space, staring at him with glowing yellow eyes, filled with hunger and intensity. His body squirmed, tossing about as though the mere action would awaken him and get him away from the nightmare. Unfortunately, not even his body would allow him to awaken from such a dream, forcing him to deal with it until he was fully rested.

Or, perhaps not.

A jolt wracked his body as his eyes flew open, awakened by a gentle hand placing itself on his forehead. His breathing was unsteady, dark bags under his eyes as though he hadn't slept well for a decent length of time. His mind had grown numb from the dream, but his eyes were still able to recognize who was standing, or rather,_ floating_, beside him.

"Did you see it?" Malzahar asked eagerly, removing his hand from Talon's forehead as he watched and waited.

"See what? I simply had a nightmare." Talon replied, forcing himself to slowly sit up as his gaze trailed to the window, spying the sky turning a rather nice reddish orange as the sun began to rise.

Malzahar shook his head, the response eliciting a sigh, "It was not simply a nightmare, assassin." This gained the focus of the Noxian, "You saw the Void."

Talon was silent for a moment, raising an eyebrow at the word 'Void'. Sure, he had heard of the place before... once again, spoken of in fairy tales and around the streets of Noxus as some 'fabled place that could grant immense power', but he never believed it to be true. After all, there was also a fair amount of people that immediately dismissed the subject as being a load of garbage.

The assassin was more inclined to follow the latter type of people.

"...Right." He replied with a scoff, "You expect me to believe that I witnessed, firsthand, 'the Void'? A place that has been spoken of only by drunkards and lunatics? Of course I did, that makes _perfect_ sense!"

The sarcasm in Talon's words was extremely obvious, making the prophet roll his eyes as he floated over so he sat down on the bed beside the assassin. His fingers trailed lightly over the chains that bound his wrists, feeling the cool steel of the metal through the black cloth that formed his gloves. Without looking at Talon, Malzahar began to speak once more.

"Tell me, Talon... why do you think it is that I brought you here?" Malzahar asked, lightly lifting one of the chains with a single finger.

"...To chain me up until you find a way to kill me off so I don't kill you first?" Talon responded, though it was an honestly serious reply; it is what he believed to be true, after all.

Talon didn't even flinch as a hand was placed on the back of his head, patting it lightly, "Incorrect."

"Tell me why, then. ...Only thing that comes to mind is that you're a sadistic lunatic." Talon swore he heard a low growl come from the man beside him at that remark.

"...I have brought you here because the Void has instructed me to do so." Malzahar calmly began, setting the chain back down as his head turned, icy gaze meeting Talon's, "you have been chosen. The moment you set foot into the Shurima Desert, the Void called out to me, and ordered me to take you captive until your time arrives."

"My... time?"

"Indeed. The time for you to become a vessel. Your body has been chosen to house a powerful entity of the Void. Why it chose you, though... is another story entirely. Not even I know why the Void would choose an incapable street urchin to house itself in..." As he spoke, Malzahar instantly noticed the fire that once again burned within the bird-like eyes that were scowling at him; perhaps that could be why he was chosen... his determination and willpower were incredible. At least, to the prophet they were.

It was understandable, after all... the pain that Talon had endured through his childhood was simply incredible.

"You're nothing but a madman. Do you honestly expect me to believe all of that...?" The Noxian was practically seething in anger, "you trap me here without a properly good reason, chain me up, and then go raving on about how I'm a 'vessel to some Voidian entity'? You're absolutely _insane_."

Malzahar sighed, and for a short moment, his eyes held hints of sadness as he turned his head away from the assassin. Of course, Talon caught it; it was easy to tell, the glow of his eyes had faded for a short moment before regaining their light as they grew fixated on the far wall. Though he honestly didn't care if the prophet was upset by his words; it was all deserved.

"You are just like the rest of them..." The prophet growled, ethereal voice going much lower than normal as his eyes seemed to flicker back and forth from the wall to the assassin beside him, "No one believes... and then, they find themselves in predicaments, or without their lives. If only they had believed me... perhaps they would be in better situations."

Once again the Noxian found himself in silence. Part of his mind was screaming to believe that what Malzahar was saying was true, but his instinct was saying otherwise. There was no way this man could be telling the truth... they had just met barely even two days ago, so how was it possible that he knew so much about him already?

Unless, his notion was true, and he really was a seer... the robes certainly made him look the part, of what he had heard in the past about Shurimian prophets.

"Are you...?" Talon stopped himself, not allowing his voice to finish the question. Though, it was one that begged to be asked. To prove his theories correct, he needed to know more of this man. "Are you a seer? From this place?"

Malzahar's eyes once again focused on the younger male, the softly glowing blue orbs not averting themselves this time. It was still a little unnerving, being stared at by the other man... there were certain things about him that screamed that he was not from this dimension, but Talon chose not to jump to conclusions. Not until he received answers.

"Once. Long ago, I was a seer. I was destined for greatness, my name was spoken of throughout even the smallest villages in Shurima. I was a prodigy - at a young age, my visions rivaled those of the elderly." Malzahar began, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he stood from the bed and floated idly in the air, "Yet, the Void recognized my power as well... it chose me to be its herald. Thus, after following its calling, it is exactly what I became. The Void infused itself within me, which is why my eyes glow, and these markings adorn my robes."

Interesting, the assassin thought; so, he was correct in the assumption...

"You, too, have been chosen. Soon, you shall be just like me... but, with a powerful soul within you. Your powers will be destructive, and your name shall be feared by all mortals that inhabit this land..." Malzahar continued his speech, occasionally making hand motions for added effect, "Is this not what you have always sought? You have desired power ever since you were but a small child... that is what brought you to kill your only friend when he weighed you down, was it not?"

That simple statement made Talon blink in surprise, "How do you-?"

"I have seen everything about your past." Malzahar said with a wicked grin, chuckling softly, "Being that you are of such importance to the Void, it granted me a vision of the key points of your history.. as such, there is nothing kept secret from me."

Anger began to once again well up inside of the Noxian male, hands clenching in the fabric of the bedsheets. How dare this man look into his past, learn near everything about him, and then go on to preach about it so nonchalantly?! It was high time the assassin finally took a stand for himself.

Even if it was in the worst way possible.

Before he knew what had happened, his body had moved on its own.

Talon stood, and a powerful punch had connected directly with the seer's jaw. Malzahar's entire body seemed to jolt sideways from the force put into the fist, remaining still as he listened to the annoyed huffs of breath coming from Talon's lips. Perhaps he did go too far... but, he would not allow the assassin to get away with such violence so easily.

Just as the assassin was feeling good about himself for finally freeing some of his anger into the form of a heavy right hook, his body was lifted by unseen hands and thrown roughly against the wall. His mouth opened and his eyes grew wide as the breath was knocked from his lungs, Malzahar's hands instantly gripping onto his wrists. Though, as his eyes caught sight of the venom that the light blue orbs held, an eerie chill ran down the spine of the assasin.

Those blue eyes were glowing brightly, filled with seething anger, if not hatred.

The grip Malzahar once again had on his wrists grew tighter, bringing back memories of when he was dangling high above Shurima from the strangling hold that was once on his throat. His hands twitched as pressure was applied to his wrists just below the shackles with the prophet's thumbs, a low groan of pain escaping his throat in the process.

But, the prophet certainly wasn't one to stop there.

A small rift opened beside the prophet, and as the assassin stared into it, his body shuddered in terror; it was an endless purple abyss, filled with light spots that were glowing like stars in an evening sky. There was something ominous about the rift, and at the same time, it was unlike anything Talon had ever seen. But, as he gazed into the vast space, he caught a small glimpse of movement along the bottom of the rift.

It wasn't long before he was being strangled by a violet, transparent tentacle that shot from the rift and constricted the soft flesh of his throat, sliding him up the wall so his feet were just barely above the floor. Talon gasped for breath, squirming violently in the prophet's grasp as he was rewarded with nothing but a menacing chuckle from his captor. At that very moment, despite the fear that was instilled into his racing thoughts, the assassin knew that Malzahar's words were true.

No longer would he doubt him.

Except, he was unable to speak to tell him that at the current moment. Or, so he thought. Just as the world was beginning to blur and a horrible ringing had set into his ears, the grip the being had around his throat loosened enough for the assassin to intake air and breathe properly once again.

As his desperate gasps nullified all other sounds within the room, Malzahar laughed at the sight; truly pathetic, to see such a strong man reduced to looking like a fish out of water in no time flat.

"Do you believe me now, Talon? Or shall I restrict your breath once again?" Malzahar's voice was sickeningly playful, almost as though he were gaining enjoyment from seeing the Noxian like this. Despite his gasping, a deep, threatening growl came from Talon's throat.

"S-Screw you..." He began, seeing the tentacle reel about as though preparing to constrict his throat once more, "I... I believe you... but really, screw you..."

With that, Talon's wrists were released, the being retreated into the portal, and he was allowed to drop to the cold stone flooring in a heap. Aching hands immediately flew to his throat, feeling around at the tender flesh and wincing as the bruises on each side were touched. That certainly did irritate the bruises he already had, perhaps making them worse – today was _really_ not starting off well.

"Good." Malzahar replied, roughly trailing a hand across his cheek to feel the numbness that was also inflicted upon him by the assassin's fist. "But, if you ever punch me like that again..."

While waiting for Malzahar to finish his sentence, Talon hadn't even noticed that he had moved to his level. As a warm breath was felt on his ear, his entire body froze in place. The touch that was on his shoulder once again was now gentle, almost caring, in a way, and completely unlike what he knew the prophet to be.

"...I will do much more than simply strangle you." The threat was clear, as it was whispered lowly into Talon's ear, "Do I make myself clear, assassin?"

It was as though the assassin's voice was caught in his throat; no matter how he tried to utter even a simple word, his mouth opened, but nothing emerged. His body was still frozen, feeling the heat radiating from the prophet's body and warming his own cool figure. This was an... awkward position for the assassin to be in, only now noticing that Malzahar on his knees in between his legs, one hand resting on the ground dangerously close to his thigh, as the other gently pressed onto his shoulder.

Talon felt far too vulnerable for comfort.

"C... Crystal." Talon finally replied, repressing the anger that was once again filling his veins.

Shockingly, Talon didn't take kindly to being ordered around and treated like a dog. There was only one man that could order him as such, and this prophet was certainly not him. It was infuriating and degrading, and to most eyes, it would seem as though Malzahar had 'tamed' his wild spirit through violent actions, but it was in fact the opposite.

The Noxian was just trained to follow along until an appropriate time to strike arose.

Even if he was currently once again lost in his thoughts, Talon felt the heat leave his body as Malzahar moved away, leaving the room without a word once more. His head lowered, staring at the sandstone flooring as his fingers lightly tapped onto the cool, rough surface. Admittedly, there was something about the prophet's touch that felt... familiar.

In a very strange sense, it felt rather relaxing, when he was being gentle and _not _strangling the life from his body. Though, the force that he was able to put into his grip was rather impressive, in Talon's eyes. A smirk found home on his lips as he thought of the man; even if he wouldn't admit to it, he enjoyed the mysterious nature that he held.

It kept him guessing as to what his next move would be.

General Du Couteau held the same nature. His actions were spontaneous, but never without good reasoning behind them. Perhaps, Talon thought... perhaps the Seer was the same way.

And maybe that was why he felt some sort of odd attraction to him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter IV**

Through the day, the hawk remained idle in the cage that bound it. Chains were often heard rattling from the bedroom as he roamed about, trailing his lithe fingers along the sandstone walls as if searching for some form of secret. Anything to help him escape.

Or, in a very distant hope.. perhaps find his blades.

Actually, he had never thought to ask the prophet where he took his armor and blades. It was a question that didn't seem to even cross his mind as they spoke; the seer was capable of bringing up far more important points that required immediate recognition. But, perhaps he would ask him later.

After all, he still had his shirt, pants, and metal boots; it was enough to keep him pleased for the time being.

The sudden creaking of a wooden door made Talon's ears perk up, stopping him from his search as he removed his hands from the wall. Without needing to turn his eyes to the doorway, he felt the eerie presence of the prophet float into the room. After all, it was hard to miss, given the fact he had such a strong, ominous aura about him.

"Assassin. I have a proposition for you. One that may, in fact, please you." Malzahar began, holding a new set of chains in his hands. "You are coming to the market with me today."

A small glimmer of hope appeared in Talon's mind. This could be his chance to finally strike, or, to get away from his captor. Without thinking too far into it, he gained a small smile on his lips as he turned to Malzahar and nodded in acceptance.

"Of course. If that is what you wish for me to do." He replied almost too willingly, walking over towards him and allowing the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles to be undone. Though, they were swiftly replaced before he could make a single move.

In fact, the smile was wiped off his face completely as a collar was snapped around his neck and a chain attached to a small iron loop that adorned the leather binding.

"Don't get your hopes up. If you are having thoughts of escaping while we are there, remove them from your thinking process immediately. Save yourself the trouble of having your hopes shot down, would you?" Malzahar's voice was rather nonchalant, but truthful. "After all, if you escaped me... I would do everything in my power to bring you back. Do not forget that I can travel much faster than an average being, mortal."

Mortal. The term made Talon roll his eyes in disgust. The fact Malzahar held himself on such a high pedestal for simply being the 'chosen' of the Void irked Talon.

The seer was far from being a special cookie in Talon's eyes, not that he would ever tell him such.

"Here."

The blade's shadow growled as he was smacked in the face by a dark brown cloak that flopped over his head as he failed to catch it. An amused chuckle came from Malzahar, Talon responding with a glower as he pulled the cloak from his head and wrapped it around him the best he could. Shackles were still attached to his wrist, and the chain that connected in between them was far from being long; he could barely fit his arms down in a relaxed position at his sides.

The seer certainly had prepared for this, just in case.

"Good, that should conceal you rather nicely... don't want a sudden sandstorm to scar that precious face of yours, now do we? You need to look your best for when the Void finally enters you." Talon could feel the smile on Malzahar's lips from underneath the facemask. Again, it made him sick.

Suddenly, the brown hood that was attached to the cloak was pulled roughly over his head, blocking the top half of his face from view. Only the bottom of his nose down was now visible to onlookers, though he could somewhat see through the dark fabric. Enough to tell what his surroundings were, anyway, and if necessary he could just maneouver his head to gain a better view.

Thankfully the assassin was used to wearing clothing of this sort - given his usual missions into the frigid lands of Freljord.

"Now. Shall we go?" Malzahar asked, receiving a reluctant huff of acknowledgment from Talon.

Without waiting, the chain that Malzahar held in hand was roughly tugged, pulling the assassin forward. Right now, he truly did feel like a pet, which made him scowl at the back of Malzahar's head as he was lead out of the small house and into the desert sands. Being led around by a chain that was attached to a collar on his neck... how degrading, Talon thought.

"It will not take long to reach our destination. There is a small village not far from here that holds what I seek. Try to keep up, and please don't allow yourself to suffer from heatstroke."

That simple request, though meant with good intentions, made Talon's eye twitch. Don't allow himself to suffer from heatstroke... was this man serious? In fact, he seemed like a small child at times with how he spoke and acted.

After all, it had been nearly a week now that they had first met.

Speaking to the prophet each day, Talon began to pick up on his actions and notice clearly the things that bothered him and the things that did not. While he was an intriguing man to talk to due to the fact that he held many secrets within his knowledgeable mind, he was also extremely, _extremely _infuriating. There were little things and remarks that he would make that would leave Talon's skin crawling in annoyance. But thankfully, Talon has, since the night he was nearly killed by the odd Void entity, resisted the urge to punch the Prophet again.

To say he had learned his lesson the first time would be an understatement. The next time Talon would decide to attack the prophet, it would be with a killing intent. Not just a warning strike.

"So, Talon... how well did you enjoy your life in Noxus?"

The sudden question made Talon blink. He didn't understand why Malzahar would be attempting small talk about his life when he already knew everything about him. Though, to humor him, Talon decided to go along with it, even if his replies would be simple.

"Was rough, 'till the General took me in."

"Is that so? I suppose I can see why... going from living off the filthy streets and making your home in a sewer, to living in a luxurious mansion filled with all types of delicacies must have seemed like heaven for you, mm?" The prophet chuckled, and for once, seemed like a decent man worth speaking with.

Talon gained a small smile on the corner of his lips, "...Yeah. I was truly grateful for what he saw in me... he saw me for what I truly was, and used my abilities well. I was something much more than just a 'guard dog' or an 'assassin' to him. He treated me like a son."

Much to Talon's surprise, the Seer had grown silent instead of conjuring up a response to his explanation. His head had turned to face forward, and his pace had slowed, allowing Talon to catch up and walk alongside the floating male. It was odd for him to be so silent, since he was a man of many questions.

An awkward silence drew in between the two, persisting for what seemed like ages as they traveled. The only sounds that occurred were the shuffling of Talon's armored boots through the soft sand, and the occasional fluttering of fabric in the wind. As one who was used to staying in silence, Talon didn't complain; though he did inwardly admit to being a little unnerved with how quiet Malzahar remained.

As Talon opened his mouth to talk to finally break the quiet, Malzahar interrupted him as if on cue.

"We have arrived." He said simply, gesturing forward with his free hand.

Beholding the sight of a rural village just a short ways away, Talon exhaled a small breath in gratitude. His feet somewhat ached from trudging through the dunes without rest, and just now he realized how thirsty he actually was. Hungry, too, but getting something to drink was currently his main concern.

"...Good." Talon simply replied, voice somewhat raspy due to his parched thirst. "I was getting tired of traveling."

Malzahar smiled underneath his mask, eyes flicking over to look down at the Noxian, "Your voice and slouched figure gives that away rather easily. Sadly, I cannot allow you to go someplace to rest... we need to return home before nightfall. You may get something to drink, however..."

A small sound of detest came from the younger male upon hearing those, his hopes of getting away from Malzahar even for the shortest moment had been shot down completely. Though he was seemingly kind enough to find him something to drink, so Talon hadn't the room to whine. Anything to beat the searing desert heat would be a good thing in his book.

Upon entering the town, villagers scurried about, some with crates and others with large pots that were handcrafted by the wonderful ladies that resided within. Dancers and gypsies made their homes in the central plaza of this town, Talon's eyes trailing over their forms as they seemed to quickly scurry away from he and Malzahar whenever they drew close. It piqued the assassin's curiosity, drawing a bit closer to Malzahar in order to speak quietly to him.

"Why do they flee away from us...?"

Malzahar chuckled, glowing eyes flicking down to the concerned rogue, "Simple. They think of you as being a slave."

"...Certainly not a wrong assumption." Talon growled under his breath, watching as Malzahar once again turned his focus forward.

"Slave traders are common around this part of Shurima. They come and go, bringing slaves from all different areas of Runeterra to be sold. Most tend to stay far away from them, most likely due to fear. Fear that they will end up as slave themselves if they aren't careful, especially if they are poor and lacking a proper home to run to."

Malzahar's explanation silenced Talon. He gained a disgusted frown, dark eyes turning to stare at the sandy cobblestone. He had remembered an instance where General Du Couteau had sent him to do away with a slave trader... the assassin still remembered when he had stumbled upon the slaves that he owned, and just how miserable each one of them seemed.

If there were ever a time that Talon pitied another human being, it would have been then.

"Stay close to me."

The small whisper from the Prophet made Talon regain his focus as Malzahar quickly pulled him into a more secluded area of the marketplace. An alleyway cast in shade stretched before them, stalls lining the sides of the large path, each with a variety of goods stored upon their wooden stands. A black market, Talon immediately knew; there was one similar in the slums of Noxus, where many stolen and imported goods were sold for profit.

It wasn't until Malzahar stopped in front of one of the stalls did Talon once again pay attention to him, stopping behind him as he gazed over his shoulder at what he was eyeing.

"Cloth...?" Talon asked, looking at the other male in bewilderment. "What is this for?"

"Silence." Came the swift, low reply, making his brow furrow, "hold onto these for me. If you want a drink, you're going to work for it."

Without waiting for a response, a bundle of purple and blue cloth was shoved into Talon's arms. He growled, not quite enjoying such treatment, even if he was used to the sort of thing from other Noxians. So, instead of wittily retorting, he merely huffed in irritation, holding onto the bundle of cloth as he was told.

Looking down at the small bundle, Talon took a moment to notice that it held the same texture of cotton; expensive, but extremely soft. His mind could only wonder what the seer had in mind, considering trying to read him was like trying to decode an ancient scripture. Talon had stopped trying after the first couple of days.

No sense trying to understand something that is shrouded in mystery, he reasoned.

The assassin stumbled as he was suddenly tugged forward with a fair amount of force, noticing that Malzahar had once again begun to move after paying for the cloth. He was keeping Talon unusually close to him, only allowing a small margin of the long chain out of his grip, forcing the other to practically hug his side. Just as he was about to question this action, he was once again silenced by the other's ethereal voice.

"Keep your eyes open. This is an area that is popular amongst thieves. You, of course, may be used to such things... but, I shall pass on a warning to you regardless." His voice was quieter than normal, whispering so he wouldn't be heard by onlookers, "and, have you not noticed the odd looks that you are receiving?"

That question made Talon blink, slightly turning his head to look around at the people who gathered behind the stalls. Their dark eyes were indeed watching him in particular, and watching him carefully. Odd, he didn't think he looked out of the ordinary... most of them were also wearing dark brown, hooded cloaks that concealed most of their features.

"...Yes. Why?" Another rough tug, one that jerked Talon forward so he forced to literally be pressed against Malzahar's side. "_Stop that._"

Blue eyes began to glow brighter as they flicked down to look at Talon, who immediately noticed the change and muttered a quiet apology to calm him down.

"Firstly, do not speak to me that way..." His voice was a low growl, one that always inflicted a shudder on the young assassin, "Secondly... ignoring the fact you look like a slave, it is your skin tone. Outsiders are not... welcomed here with open arms. Why do you think you are dressed in those robes? They are not only to protect you from the sands, but also to conceal your identity. Should the villagers gain word that you are a Noxian, you will be hunted-"

"Because they hate Noxus due to the war, all Noxians are scum, blah blah. Been there, done that." Talon interrupted with an annoyed, grumbling tone of voice. Malzahar slowly nodded in response.

"Correct. As such, you need to stay close to me, and do not remove your hood."

A simple command, Talon mused. Not like he'd take his hood off in public anyway, it stayed on for a reason, especially when in Noxus. It was a perfect way of concealing his identity, after all.

"Fine." Came his reply, allowing himself to be lead back into a lighter environment, and soon he found himself wandering through the commons again.

It wasn't long before a small canteen of oasis water fell into his hands, the assassin greedily popping the cork and drinking his fill. At least the prophet was true to his word, even if it did take a little while for him to follow through. It left the Noxian thirstier than he would have liked, but the reward of cool water going down his parched throat was well worth the wait.

Even as they finally left the village with a small woven basket filled with goods, Talon continued to gulp the water greedily. At least, on the bright side, the trip back was a lot less agonizing, considering they were mainly going down a majority of the dunes rather than traveling up them. However, Talon was getting rather chilled, as with the setting of the sun, a cool wind began to waft over the Shurimian sands.

The assassin shivered as they walked, picking up his pace so that he was actually walking a few steps ahead of the prophet. He needed to keep himself going if he hoped to beat the cold. Thankfully, the small home that Malzahar owned had a small fireplace in the main room; it wasn't much, but it would be enough to keep the place somewhat heated.

Especially on a cold evening such as this.

"Are you cold?" The question made Talon turn his head, dark eyes looking carefully at Malzahar. Instead of replying vocally, his head slowly nodded. "I see. We shall be home soon."

'Home'. The word ran through Talon's mind as he heard it spoken. Could the place he was staying in now with the Seer truly be called a home...?

An odd fact about the assassin was that he was capable of being lost within his thoughts easily, which Malzahar seemed to pick up on. There were certain words, phrases and actions that could leave the Noxian lost within his mind for seemingly hours, if given the luxury of being alone for that long. However, this time, the prophet decided to act upon it.

The younger male shook as he suddenly felt a strong arm around his shoulder, and a warmth run over his cool body. The prophet had moved and pulled Talon towards him, wrapping his purple cloak partially around the rogue in an attempt to provide him with extra heat. Of course, whether he knew that this situation was a rather awkward one to be put in or not was certainly a question worth pondering.

"Malzahar...?" Talon questioned, grateful for the heat, but also somewhat bewildered by the generous action, "What are you doing?"

No response was received, silence instead falling between the two as Talon lightly shrugged his shoulders and welcomed the sloppy embrace. It was something, at least – something to keep the both of them warm as they traversed the icy desert sands. Hesitantly, Talon even found his arm slinking around the prophet's back, placing it on his hip so that he were in a more comfortable position against him.

Normally, the assassin would never consider such an action. If he were in Noxus, and if his wrists weren't restrained, he would have stabbed the Seer through the throat a long time ago and fled to fend for himself. It was his usual action to take, one he fell back on since childhood.

But now, in this time, his eyes were turned to the far left, looking away from the Seer but leaning against him for the warmth. Whether it was intentional or not, his head had also moved to rest on Malzahar's chest, only now realizing how fatigued he truly was. Walking an entire day, enduring heat _and _cold in a desert of all places really took it out of him.

Which is why as soon as they finally arrived at the small home, Talon broke the embrace and moved towards his room. Or, at least, he would have, if Malzahar didn't still have a good hold on the chain attached to his collar. As he attempted to move, his body was pulled backwards by the chain, eliciting a growl from his once again parched throat.

"Let go." His response was quick and low, voice challenging, "I want to sleep."

"Not yet." Malzahar replied, though he did pull him towards the bedroom anyways, which surprised the younger man, "There is still something I want to do."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter V**

As he was lead into the bedroom, Talon's eyes didn't stray from the Prophet's figure. He stood against the far wall, watching as Malzahar placed the basket of goods onto the bare bed. His curiosity was evident on his face, by the way his dark eyes were alight as he stared at the sheets that were neatly folded inside.

Before he made any further movements towards the basket, Malzahar quickly lifted the chains that once restrained Talon to the room, and dragged them towards him. Talon didn't have much say in the matter as he was soon once again lacking his brown cloak, collar removed, and chains swapped out. Normally one would be grateful for the change, considering the chains in the room granted him more freedom to move his arms, but they were also clamped around his wrist a lot tighter than the others that were used for traveling.

To say they were a tad uncomfortable would be an understatement.

"Now... can you take a guess as to what those sheets were for?" Malzahar asked, watching Talon shake his head, "Look around."

Watching the prophet's eyes carefully, Talon saw the bright pupils gesture towards the bed. Indeed, it was bare, aside from a cover sheet that swept over the mattress for protection. So, if his theory was correct...

"Bedsheets?" He asked, receiving a nod and a gleeful smile from the Seer. "We went all that way just for bedsheets?"

Talon received a small sigh, eyes not leaving the floating form as he moved over towards the bed once again, "Not just those... you are hungry as well, are you not?"

Admittedly, yes, he was quite famished. He had eaten nothing but a single loaf of nearly stale bread this morning that was rummaged from the kitchen pantry. Ever since he became a resident of this home, he had not been fed properly.

"Here."

Barely having time to react, Talon fumbled as a small package was thrown at him. Managing to catch it, he then examined the contents. Inside were two large slices of cooked meat, though he couldn't exactly identify what type of meat it was, so he was rather hesitant to consume it.

"And this meat is...?" Asked the assassin, looking towards Malzahar with a very unsure expression.

"Shurimian Scarab meat." Came the reply, only managing to baffle Talon further, "The scarabs that reside under the sands of this desert are as large as a mule. If you ever find one, you can easily crack open its shell and eat the meat that's underneath. ...After cooking it, of course, considering they have been known to carry a variety of diseases."

A small smile swept over Malzahar's lips as he turned and calmly stared at the assassin.

"Worry not, however. The meat has been checked, and it is clean. I made sure of that before I bought it. I trust it shall also suit your taste buds, considering the... odd taste it has."

Odd taste was certainly right. As Talon lifted a slice and took a bite, his mouth was filled with the taste of pork, mingling with a slight taste of... pear? Sweet, but savory at the same time.

It was good, and he soon found himself scarfing it down without thinking to offer the prophet a share.

"Delicious." Talon replied through a mouthful of food, the prophet chuckling at the muffled sound.

"Very well. I shall have to recruit _him _to hunt for some more scarabs in the morning... but, for now, we should focus on the matter at hand."

...Him? The assassin noticed the emphasis the Voidian put on the word. It was tempting to ask what he had meant, but upon noticing Malzahar carefully and accurately pulling the soft purple and blue sheets over the bed, he decided against it. The focused look he held didn't allow Talon to intrude.

As he finished the two slices of meat, Talon set the package down onto the sill of the only window in the room, deciding to discard it at a later date. Then, he stepped towards Malzahar, lightly running a single gloved finger over the bedsheets that now lay neatly across the small, welcoming bed. They were soft, like clouds, and he knew that they would also be very warm.

"Prophet, tell me something." Talon began, gaining the other man's attention immediately, "why do you go through so much trouble for me? If I am to be sacrificed to this... deity... as you said, and become his vessel, what point is there in taking such good care of me?"

"Your physical body shall remain the same way it was at the point of sacrifice. Any scars or abnormalities you hold will be removed, however... but, your body shall remain the same. I cannot allow you to freeze to death, and I cannot allow you to die. The dead are not able to traverse into the Void, you see, so keeping you alive and healthy is an absolute must. I am only doing so because the Void wills it - if not for that, I wouldn't have a care whether you lived or died."

"Is that so...?" In a way, disappointment held in Talon's voice upon hearing the final statement of Malzahar's speech.

He couldn't exactly place why, but he had hoped for a different answer. He had hoped for the prophet to say that he actually cared about him, considered him a friend after the weeks they had spent together, even if it was forced. Not even his mind could explain why his heart felt heavy from Malzahar's words, almost aching... this feeling was odd, and certainly not something he had felt before.

Since he and the prophet met, the assassin had felt an odd connection between the two of them. While it started out as a game of hunter and prey, it had evolved into something much different, at least to him. Were they friends? Acquaintances? Talon couldn't place his finger on what they were, or why he felt rather angered that Malzahar didn't seem to _truly_ care about his wellbeing.

It infuriated the assassin; he felt no better than an object.

"Why are you upset?"

The sound of Malzahar's voice broke Talon from his thoughts, snapping his dark eyes to attention as he snarled and looked away towards the window.

"Upset? I'm not upset in the slightest. Don't have time for such things." Came his reply, though he had a difficult time masking the hurt that was evident in his voice. "Why should you care, though? My emotional state has nothing to do with my 'physical body'."

The words were spat in a much more venomous way than even Talon had expected. Even Malzahar blinked in surprise, crossing his arms and staring in surprise at the assassin. Neither of them had expected such venom, even the one that had spoken it.

"Such hostility, Talon... I apologize if my words have upset you, but they are the truth."

"...Honestly, screw you." The rogue growled, low and quiet enough to where he thought the prophet wouldn't hear.

Wrong he was, however.

Quickly, his chin was held in a tight grasp, head lifted and eyes locked with those of brightly glowing orbs. Unfortunately, the Seer had picked up on the quiet comment, and he was none too happy of the harsh phrase. Talon remained still, his ground held as his sharp eyes refused to falter.

"You know what? My words are true too. 'Sorry' if they upset you." Talon snarled, allowing his anger to be vocal. For once, he didn't care of the consequences. If Malzahar chose to punish him for this, then so be it.

"Assassin. What is it that you wish?" Glowing crystal orbs remained locked with darkened eyes, staring unblinking with an equal amount of force.

What it was that he wished? Not even he knew. His heart and mind were conflicted, and neither were giving a straight answer to the simple question.

"I don't know. But I am not inclined to tell you, should I arrive at an answer." Talon said in an undertone, his dark eyes darting away from the Prophet's.

"You wish to be acknowledged by me." A sudden response, a smile gracing the Seer's lips as he noticed the rogue's eyes widen in surprise. He had gotten him, once again. "You are quite easy to read, Talon. I was merely hoping you would come to such a conclusion on your own, without my guidance."

No matter which way Talon looked at it, Malzahar was correct. His feelings were begging to be acknowledged as something more than just a rat, or a vessel, to his current caretaker. To be seen as something more... be seen as a friend, perhaps it was all he truly wished for, no matter how temporary it would be.

It would at least make him feel less like a prisoner, and less alone.

If his mind were to be replaced by a greater being in a matter of days, being cherished, even if it be by the Seer, would allow him to rest easy. As easy as he could, at any rate. The thought of death still plagued his mind, and bore a heavy weight on his shoulders.

Yet... was being seen as a friend truly all he wished for?

"You are quite an interesting young assassin, I can certainly say..." Malzahar began, releasing his hold on Talon and floating back a few paces, "No wonder you have been chosen by the Void... You are strong, yet sheltered. The iron wall that is still presently concealing your heart is built high. ...Yet, your poker face is currently faltering."

Talon growled, immediately turning his back to the Prophet, only being graced by a low chuckle as he moved to stand in front of the window. The dunes outside were howling, a harsh wind blowing the air about as large birds of the night screeched overhead. Seems the two of them had made it back in a timely fashion... being outside now could bring about certain death.

"Turning your back to me will not shroud the expression that you hold, assassin..." Talon's eye twitched; his annoyance growing from the smug words. "Right now, you are weak. You are allowing your selfish desires to rule your thoughts. ...Your precious General would be ashamed if he saw you right now; his right hand reduced to a sniveling, emotional little girl."

"Shut up." Talon growled, menacing as his head turned to glance back at Malzahar, dark eyes glaring daggers underneath the veil of his hood. "Just shut up, already! Your words are doing nothing but irritating me, you insufferable Prophet!"

Since he had arrived, Talon's voice had never held so much venom – but there was a first time for everything. The other's words would not be so easily excused, especially when drawing the General's name into play. Simply mentioning him in such a negative manner left Talon furious, snarling as he whirled around and stalked towards the Seer.

"You've no right to speak of my master, nor do you have any right to look into my mind and see my thoughts!" His deep voice boomed, nearly shouting in rage as he spoke, though Malzahar didn't even so much as flinch. "Don't you get it?! When you showed such courtesy to me, I imagined, for once in my life, that someone was going out of their way to actually care for me. Despite the chains, I could accept it! Your actions earlier today made me feel like I was worth something, worth _anything_ to someone else!"

His hands rose, digging themselves into Malzahar's scarf, pulling him closer to him so their faces were mere inches apart. The snarling assassin's eyes were sharp, and filled with nothing but anger. His eyes, in this moment, spoke more than his words ever could.

Deep brown eyes filled with hatred and sorrow; the eyes of a trained killer that had been denied the warmth and love that every human required.

"You're just like the rest of them – just like the scum that litter the streets of Noxus. You don't care, you're simply using me to further your _own _cause." Just like that, Talon's voice began to grow softer, hands sliding from Malzahar's scarf as his eyes stared into confused turquoise orbs. "I was a fool for thinking you would be different. That you would care for me in the time that you have kept me here, but I am no more than an 'item' to sacrifice to your _precious_ Void..."

A silence befell the room, leaving nothing but the howling gales of the desert to break the silence. Talon's heart ached, his harsh words already being regretted by his mind. But, they needed to be said... if they had not, it would have left the assassin bitter and cold towards the other male.

Not that he wasn't already.

"Assassin- ...No, Talon." Malzahar began, his glowing eyes lowering in a calming look, gloved hand gently grasping onto Talon's. The Rogue's hands were cold, chilled, just like the air in the room. "Do you wish for me to genuinely care about you? As though we are... 'friends'?"

Such a strange question, one that made Talon scoff. "...It would not be genuine if it is forced. Have you not had friends before, Malzahar?"

Silence was his only answer, eliciting a sigh from the assassin as his head lowered to stare at the ground.

"...Nevermind. Just forget I even spoke."

With that, Talon moved away from the Seer. He lay down on the bed, reveling in the softness of the cotton sheets; he was grateful for them, but couldn't bring himself to voice his gratitude at the current time. The Rogue's body shuddered as he felt the ethereal eyes still watching him, gazing at him as he lay comfortably on the bed. It was a little unsettling, but he forced his mind to ignore it as his eyes fell shut and a content sigh escaped his chapped lips.

"...Good night."

The quiet murmur caused Talon's eyes to open halfway in surprise. As he shifted to look at the foot of the bed where he had left the Prophet previously, an even greater shock befell him. The room was empty, and Malzahar was once again nowhere to be found; it was as if he had vanished as soon as he spoke the friendly words towards the blade.

A sigh and a huff was all that Talon managed as he lay back down, slipping himself underneath the warm sheets and once again shutting his eyes. The friendliness of the other was unnecessary, and felt odd considering their previous conversation, but... Talon welcomed it. In a strange sense, he welcomed and embraced the friendliness of Malzahar, even if his reasoning for requiring it may be... odd to the Prophet.

Before slumber took him, his voice hesitantly murmured to the thin air around him.

"...Good night, Prophet..."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter VI**

**Author's Note_: _**_Just wanted to say a very quick thank you to those who are reading/following/reviewing the story so far! Thanks so much, I'm glad you're enjoying it! _

******(======)**  


The darkness was endless, swirling about and encasing the lone figure that traveled within. Talon's body shuddered, his mind numb from the small whispers and chants of disembodied voices that spoke to him. They whispered into his ears, guiding him, pulling him along with meaningless threats and phrases.

_They _were the voices of the Void. Beings that could turn even the strongest of men insane with their whispers of 'guidance'. Their senseless promises of the Void fixing all problems were alluring, but also terrifying; even if they were lacking a body, they still held enough power to strike down anyone who defied them.

If the human's mind was not rendered entirely useless beforehand.

"Forward... forward, and you will find what you seek..." They whispered, earning a growl from the assassin as he trudged forward. "Submit to us, Rogue... we can bring back the person that you seek..."

A tempting offer, but not one that Talon was going to accept. He knew better than to trust them, his eyes focused purely on the darkness in front of him. The dark was laced with hints of purple, soft lights guiding his way as he stepped forward slowly.

Then, he stopped. Movement in front of him, something large was moving around. The darkness obscured his vision to the point that he couldn't tell who, or what it was; he would need to get closer before he could say for sure.

Or so he thought.

Immediately, the area in front of him was illuminated, large purple orbs hovering just above the ground and shining brightly. Their glow was cast over the tall figure in front of the assassin, his eyes immediately widening in shock, mouth going agape. The voices chuckled, and Talon's legs began to move, sprinting as fast as he could towards the figure.

Once he drew near, his hand outstretched, reaching and grasping onto the thick brown cloak that draped over the figure's strong shoulders. It certainly_ felt_ real; even through his gloved hands he could feel the fabric, each tiny strand woven just the same way he remembered when he had held the article of clothing oh so long ago. With dark eyes alight with both shock and joy, Talon let out a deep breath he didn't realize he was holding.

Immediately, Talon's arms wrapped around the cloaked figure, hugging him tightly against his smaller body. His face was buried in his back, taking in the familiar scent as his hands clenched onto the brown cloak for dear life. He wouldn't let go this time, even if the disembodied whispers were growling at him to cease his actions and turn away.

"General... I've been searching for so long..." Talon spoke, dark voice filled with bliss as a smile graced his lips.

"Release me."

The command that was hissed in an angered tone made Talon's skin crawl in fear, immediately obeying and releasing his master from his grip. As the assassin stepped back, the General's head turned, a harsh frown adorning his aged face as he looked upon his assassin. Said assassin was frozen in place, unable to move a single finger as he stood in the presence of the man he had been searching nearly two years for.

"You are not Talon. You are not my servant. Step away from me before I remove your head from your shoulders, _fiend_." The words were spat with enough venom to make Talon gasp. "Look down, upon yourself. You are _not _the boy that I regarded as a son."

Talon's eyes immediately trailed down, looking at his reflection that gazed back from the thin pool of clear water that flooded the ground. At first, he was confused; he looked normal, his features were the same as always, the clothing on his back the same purple attire that he pulled on each morning. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

"General, I... I do not understand." Talon's concerned eyes darted back up, noticing Marcus had turned his head away from him again.

"Look again. Harder. Look with your mind; not your heart."

The assassin's eyes furrowed in confusion at that saying. But, once again, he looked. And this time, he nearly cried out in terror.

His features were not his own, face distorted and giving way to glowing yellow eyes that seemed to pierce his very soul; filled with hatred, but also desire. Desire to kill, to murder without reasoning, easily also told by the wicked grin that was upon his lips. This was not him... his own clothing was definitely not torn and ravaged, and he held no glowing eyes nor strange markings beneath them... but, one thing immediately stood out.

The markings that were upon his reflection's cheeks were exactly like Malzahar's.

**(======)**

A jolt ran through Talon's torso as his eyes flew open, being graced by the morning sunlight. Currently he was in a cold sweat, breathing heavily as his mind raced to recall the events of what he had just seen. The figure... the _imposter_... it was horrifying to remember. Even as his eyes closed once more, he immediately had to open them again.

The image of two golden eyes staring back at him were still present, and far too fresh to be so easily dismissed.

Slowly, the assassin forced himself up, sitting and placing a hand on his forehead as if to ease the headache that plagued him. As if the nightmare wasn't worse enough; now he had to deal with the annoyance of a headache to start his day off. Ah, this was not going to be a good day at all.

Talon began to run a series of questions through his head as he tried to collect his thoughts. Should he tell Malzahar about the dream, and perhaps get some answers from the Prophet? Or shall he keep it a secret?

Right now, his mind was focused on hiding the dream; there was no need to get the Prophet riled up and ranting about 'the Void' any more than he already does. Especially since Talon was already dealing with a headache. He didn't need more annoyance to add to it.

As he finally stood up, Talon stretched his aching limbs and made his way to the foot of the bed. Once there, he noticed something rather... out of the ordinary. A small woven basket filled with scarab meat was placed at the foot of the bed, still warm with thin lines of steam trailing up into the air; it was certainly ready to be eaten.

On cue, the rogue's stomach rumbled. Before he moved to his knees to take the bowl, Talon glanced around the room to make sure that he was the only one currently present. Indeed, Malzahar was nowhere to be found at the moment, though judging by how freshly cooked this meat was, he was here only moments ago.

And for some reason, that thought set the assassin a little on edge.

Though he was still hungry, so he pushed those thoughts aside.

Hesitantly, Talon took one of the slices of meat and began to eat his fill, sitting against the foot of the bed. A small smile crept to his lips, one that couldn't be helped; Malzahar had remembered how much he had enjoyed eating the delicacy, and kept true to his word to get Talon some more of it. Certainly a nice breakfast, and perhaps it made the day _slightly_ better.

But not by much.

That being said, the morning once again worsened in a span of a few seconds.

Talon froze in place as he caught a glimpse of something peering at him from around the archway that lead into the room. Beady eyes were staring at him, belonging to that of a... dog? Though its features were certainly not of any type of animal Talon had ever seen.

In fact, it resembled more of a bug, and it made Talon's skin crawl just meeting its eyes with his own.

"I see you two have met one another. ...Somewhat." Talon nearly jumped out of his skin as Malzahar once again surprised him, appearing suddenly and now sitting on the bed just behind the assassin. "Talon, this is Kog'Maw. Do not be afraid of him; I have made it clear that you are not a meal to be devoured by his hungry jaws. Just be careful of his drool, as it is acidic and will burn you if you touch it."

Talon could only stare silently at the creature Malzhar referred to as 'Kog'Maw', sharp eyes unblinking and watching the beast carefully. Instinctively, his right hand clenched into a fist as though his blade was fitted to his arm; at least he could still throw a good right hook if something did happen. Even if he found the thought of it to be quite... a bad idea on his part.

"Kog'Maw... And he is... what, exactly?" Talon asked curiously, almost hesitant to take another bite of his breakfast; the creature seemed quite hungry, and it was staring down his food like a starving wolf.

"My son."

At that, Talon nearly spit out his food, immediately staring at Malzahar in disbelief. He earned a simple shrug of shoulders from the Prophet, whom floated from the bed and knelt down next to the small creature. It was panting like a small puppy, wagging its thick tail as Malzahar's smooth, gloved hand ran along the hard shell that encased its head.

"Hypothetically speaking, of course. I am not his real father, I have merely adopted him during his stay here in Runeterra. His _actual _father resides within the depths of the Void." Malzahar said simply, his voice calm and relaxed as Kog'Maw sat down eagerly next to him. "He is also the one who retrieved your breakfast."

Ah, so this must have been the _him_ that Malzahar mentioned last night. Made sense, Talon thought; the two claws that Kog'Maw had on each... arm, were long, and looked to be pretty useful for digging holes. Perfect way to dig up scarabs.

Though, he was a little curious about these Void creatures. Kog'Maw was one of them, as Talon came to understand. As he slowly approached them both, it was hard for him to hide the small fear that he held of the small dog-like creature.

"...Thank you, for getting me breakfast, Kog'Maw." Talon began, slowly, carefully reaching forward to touch the smooth surface of the creature's head. Odd, it felt almost like... bone? "It is nice to meet you."

"As nice as it is for you two to meet, he needs to leave now. His father will be expecting him home soon." Malzahar began, standing up and moving towards the door, motioning for the small creature to follow.

"Bye-bye!" Came a strangled, almost gurgled farewell from Kog'Maw, which again made Talon freeze and stare blankly. It could talk?!

"I will be back soon. Wait here." Malzahar stated, leaving the room with an excitable Kog'Maw trailing at his heels.

"...Not like I can really go anywhere else." Talon spat once he was alone once more, huffing and moving towards the window.

Thunder boomed in the distance. Dark clouds were shadowing the blue of the sky, nullifying any light that existed in their direction. A storm was coming; one that was rare for the Shurima desert to receive. But also one that was welcomed.

A little rain might just be nice for a change.

**(======)**

Of course, when Malzahar said he would 'be right back' Talon wasn't expecting it to take nearly four hours for his return. The storm had arrived a few moments ago, and the land was being drenched in a heavy rainfall. With him not back yet, Talon only assumed that he was camping out somewhere else for the duration of the storm, leaving the assassin alone in the peace and quiet.

Not that he minded that fact. As he sprawled lazily across the bed, he played silently with several strands of his long, dark brown hair, lazy chocolate eyes scanning over the chains that attached him to this room. The assassin couldn't find a single dent, no matter how hard he tried; there was nothing weak about them, and nothing that he could pry at them with to make them come undone.

Rather unfortunate, but by this point, Talon truly wasn't surprised.

Suddenly, the door to the home flung open with a loud crash, shutting just a loud as it had opened. Odd, Talon thought; the Seer was usually never this loud when he arrived home. Staring at the archway that lead into the room, Talon waited for Malzahar to appear there.

Sure enough, he did. But not as Talon was expecting. In fact, his dark eyes grew wide when he saw his altered appearance.

Malzahar's clothing was torn in several places, blood dripping from numerous cuts and bruises that ran along his soft, tanned skin. He was panting lightly, clutching the doorframe as he made his way into the room. Nearly stumbling over his own two feet, Talon moved to meet him halfway, catching the Prophet as he fell forward into a heap in the assassin's arms.

"Malzahar...? What happened to you?" Talon's voice was laced with concern; for once, he had a reason to actually be concerned about this man. Mainly because he was the one keeping him refuge and feeding him, and without him, he would surely die within this house.

"Let us just say... Void creatures are none too happy when their son arrives home a little late..." Though his lips did not move, Malzahar's voice still rang out in Talon's head. A method of speaking when the Seer was too exhausted to speak normally, no matter how much it unnerved the young assassin. "Place me down, please."

Doing as told, Talon quickly shoved the new blankets out of the way before he carefully placed the Prophet down onto the bed.

"Can I... trust you enough?" Malzahar began, looking at Talon with tired eyes, "I need you to get something – bandages and salve, from the kitchen drawers."

Talon's eyes immediately lit up. He was being trusted, and with that, his chains may very well leave his arms long enough for him to escape. A devious, terrible plan that could perhaps put Malzahar's life in jeopardy; but if it meant his freedom, finally... he would be willing to take that risk.

...Right?

"Of course. Whatever it is you need..." Talon kept his voice quiet, filled with concern as he gently brushed a few stray strands of dark hair from the Prophet's face. "Tell me where the kitchen is, and I will go get them for you."

Immediately, his chains fell from his arms with a dull thud, as though unlocked with an invisible key. Rubbing his aching wrists, Talon spun on his heels and made his way towards the door, slowly, to not raise suspicion. A long, dark hall stretched before him, two rooms on each side, with a large living room at the very end.

"Left door. Rightmost drawer of the counter."

After nodding to the Prophet, Talon made his way down the hall, lips curved into a sly smile. He passed the door that Malzahar had told him to enter in favor of moving into the living room, gloved hand reaching for the metal latch on the front door. This was it; it was finally here, his freedom that he had been waiting for.

As he clicked down on the latch, his hand paused.

A frown appeared on his lips, eyes staring at the warped wood in frustration. He knew he couldn't do this; he couldn't just abandon him. The Prophet may die without his aid, and Talon could tell, perhaps very, very deep down that he had _some_ good left in his corrupted heart.

Even if he was overtaken by the Void's will, the assassin could easily tell that Malzahar's heart was still intact.

It was that single thought that made Talon rewind his actions.

A loud, angered growl came from the assassin as he released the door's latch and stomped back into the hallway, making a beeline for the kitchen. Talon couldn't believe he was doing this; returning, just to save the one that had captured him in the first place. Perhaps it was the General's words that were ringing in his mind, and the chance that the Void could perhaps lead him directly to his whereabouts.

It was that possibility that kept him here, kept him bound to Malzahar like a dog on a leash.

As he grabbed the thick roll of bandages and salve, he exited the small kitchen and made his way back to the bedroom where the Prophet lay. As soon as he stepped through the door, Malzahar's eyes met his own, following him as he moved to the side of the bed. Weakly, the Seer sat up, swinging his legs over the side and looking up at the young Noxian.

"I will need assistance removing my clothing."

Those words made Talon raise a single eyebrow. He understood, but that thought was a little... awkward, to say the least. Though perhaps it was only him who thought that way.

A slow nod, and Talon placed the bandages and salve down on the bed next to Malzahar. He started with the hood and scarf, slipping both from the Seer's head and placing them down onto the floor. For some reason, without the guise to protect his face, Malzahar looked rather... normal? Soft black jaw-length hair, a delicately chiseled face with soft lips; the worst part, was that his blue eyes now really captured the assassin, making him freeze in place entirely.

What was this emotion that he felt? This strange... fluttering emotion that filled his chest, and the heat that was in his cheeks. It was unlike anything Talon had ever felt before, something odd, but also small. He could tell the Prophet noticed it too, by the way his glowing eyes met Talon's dark orbs and stared silently into them as a soft smile curled on his lips.

This emotion... wasn't him actually feeling _attracted_ to this man, was it?

"Finish your job, Talon." Malzahar's voice rang out in his head, snapping the assassin from his daze. "You may daydream later, but not now. I need your assistance for right now."

"R-Right... Sorry." Talon gulped, almost hesitant to slide the vest from the Prophet's shoulders.

His body was well toned, for a Seer. Unlike Talon had expected, he had strong abs and arms; it wasn't something one would expect, from a Seer. The strangest part, however, was that not a single scar adorned his tanned skin that Talon could see through the blood that coated him; judging from wounds like this, and the way he spoke of the Void's creatures, one would assume he would at least have a few here and there.

It was something that ran through his mind even as he applied the salve and wrapped the bandages around the Prophet's wounds. Delicately, and gently; he didn't wish to harm him. He figured he did a good job, judging by the way Malzahar didn't seem to make a single hiss of pain throughout the procedure.

"Is this alright?" Talon asked, inspecting his work and staring at the white bandages that were slowly becoming a dull red from the blood seeping into them. They looked well done enough - not too tight, and wrapped neatly so they wouldn't be undone accidently.

"Yes. You have done well, thank you." Malzahar graced him once more with a smile, making the same feeling arise in Talon's chest once more as he stared in silence, lips lowered in an unsure frown. "What's wrong, assassin?"

"...Nothing." Talon grumbled, though his eyes didn't shy away from the Prophet.

"Very well.., I suppose for aiding me, and not running away like I assumed you would... you require a reward, do you not?" Malzahar asked, making Talon's eyes light up in curiosity.

"...A reward of what type? Money? Food? Clothing?"

After the small list of his curiosities soft fingertips latched themselves underneath the assassin's chin, drawing his head and body upwards until he and Malzahar were on even level with one another. He didn't even have a moment to react as a strong arm pulling him forward until he was seated nicely on the Prophet's lap, staring down into half-lidded, amused blue eyes. What came next, only made the feeling in Talon's heart accelerate to an even greater level.

A softness graced his lips then, one that he had definitely never felt before. Their lips were locked together in a gentle, welcoming kiss from the Prophet. Except, Talon didn't make any move to return the gesture.

He remained frozen on Malzahar's lap, allowing the Seer to hug him tightly and gently slide his warm lips along the Noxian's. It was a new feeling, one that Talon didn't know how to react to in the slightest; he had never been kissed before, and simply didn't understand why his heart was beating so quick and so loud that he thought even Malzahar would hear it. The sheer delight in his heart was, however, riddled with shock and uncertainty, unknowing of what he should be doing, or how he should be reacting.

For a short moment, Talon's hands moved to rest on Malzahar's shoulders, gripping lightly as he tilted his head to hesitantly push back against the Prophet's lips. Though he swiftly gave up on the action as he heard a quiet snort of amusement from the Seer, making embarrassment rile up inside the Noxian as he feared he had made the wrong move entirely. With the negative emotion mixing with the shock that he already felt, Talon's grip on Malzahar's shoulders tightened as he then acted upon the only thought his mind could currently process.

Talon gave a rough shove at Malzahar's shoulders, one that broke the kiss and hug long enough for Talon to scramble away onto the floor until his back met the wall of the room. Talon sat there, panting loudly, shivering slightly with wide eyes as he looked up at the completely calm Prophet. And at once, his heart ached from his decision. It wanted more, but the Noxian wasn't too keen on continuing.

Though the sensation was nice, it was too foreign for him to desire it for too long.

"What was that for, Talon? Is that not what you wanted?" Malzahar asked, slowly standing and picking up his soaked shirt and scarf from the floor. "Or are you just so surprised, that you've no words left to give me?"

"I... I..." As much as Talon wanted to form words, he simply couldn't. His mind was in too much of a daze to even function properly at the moment, and as much as he wanted to ask for more, his mind wouldn't allow it. "U-Um..."

"That was your first kiss, wasn't it?" Malzahar chuckled, placing the soaked clothing on the round windowsill to dry before he seated himself on his knees in front of Talon, a grin on his lips. "You know nothing of love. Just as I expected. Your reaction... could use some work, but other than that... It's alright to be new to experiencing it. As you said last night, you wish to be closer to me, yes? Or did I misunderstand your words?"

Talon simply stared silently in response, eyes flashing with what seemed to be anger.

"Come now, at least form words. Say _something_ to me rather than staring at me like a startled deer." Malzahar grinned, finding the situation to be quite... amusing. Though, Talon certainly didn't find the situation the least bit funny.

In fact, he felt as though he were being mocked by the man in front of him. Of course he didn't know what love 'meant' or how it 'felt', being that he had been denied the feeling his entire life up until now. Unlike the Seer, he didn't have parents or... past relationships, to which he assumed Malzahar had. So it wasn't surprising that he couldn't steady his breathing or thinking properly at the given moment.

"I... I h-hate you..." The assassin spat, angered, voice low and threatening as he let loose an animalistic growl. It was the only thing he could make due with, eyes narrowing as he saw that single eyebrow raise in question.

"You are not capable of hating me. Not after all I have done for you." Came the Seer's wise retort, "you are not as vicious as others make you out to be, Talon."

A small hiss and a lowered head was all the Prophet received from Talon in response. It was clear that he was thinking hard about his words, but also clear that his words had angered him in a way. Mainly because they were true, and it burned the assassin to know that someone else was capable of reading him so well.

"Doesn't mean I like you." Talon looked up once more, his sharp, hawk gaze meeting Malzahar's as he leaned forward slightly, growling under his breath. "I could never fall in love with someone who has sentenced me to a cage."

"But you are not caged right now, are you?"

Swiftly, Talon eyes shot down to look at his wrists and ankles. Sure enough, the chains were still not around them, and his brow furrowed in question. Did Malzahar truly trust him enough to not run away...?

If so, he was foolish, Talon thought; trusting a rogue to not take a chance at freedom when offered to them was a silly thing to do.

"If you truly desired this 'freedom' of which you speak... You would have claimed that once you received word of the General's disappearance." Malzahar's lips twitched up into a smirk as he sat down on the floor in a more comfortable position, eyeing the assassin carefully. "You are not as difficult to read as you make yourself out to be, Talon. You had your freedom for nearly eighteen years, and you decided that sort of life was 'boring' to behold. Thus, you prefer this style of life... chained, being ordered around and following at someone's heels like a lapdog while they use your abilities to their full potential."

As a hand gripped his chin and forced his head back up to stare at the snickering man in front of him, Talon snarled. In a sense, the words he spoke were true, but that still did not ease the venom-filled glare that corrupted his dark eyes. Likewise in return, Talon gripped harshly tight onto Malzahar's wrist with enough strength to make most wince in pain.

But, the Seer simply laughed in his face.

"I like that look you hold right now. Intensity within your eyes – hate, yet filled with a certain type of sorrow that only a few could understand. The sorrow of being openly read like a book written in bold lettering."

"Shut up!" Talon barked, dark voice growing in intensity along with his anger. "So **what** if you can read me? What do you mean to prove from it?! Congratulations, you can read my emotions and read what I'm feeling! Great! Do you expect me to grovel at your feet?"

That short outburst only made Malzahar roll his eyes, a bored expression filling his features as he released Talon's chin from his grasp and leaned forward. His hands gently grasped both of the assassin's wrists, head lingering next to his ear. Delicate and soft was his voice as he gave a tiny whisper into the rogue's ear.

"You are mine. And soon to be the Void's. Make yourself comfortable; these next few days may be filled with joy, or pain, depending upon your actions."

At once, the room was filled with silence, only broken by the occasional crash of thunder and the pitter pattering of the raindrops as they pelted the roof above. Talon had several choice words that he wished to say, to lash out at this man once and for all and fight back while he wasn't in chains, but he knew it to be a foolish action. There was no sense in trying to get himself killed, after all; he had no doubt that this man wouldn't hesitate to kill him should he oppose him.

He had almost achieved that several times before with minimal effort.

"So what do you say, Talon?" The warm breath that tickled his ear was tempting him, the same heat arising in his chest once more as his hands balled tightly into fists.

"...I will do as you say." It pained him to accept to freely, and without a fight; but there wasn't much choice that he held in the matter. His blades and weapons were all gone, and he couldn't even hope to match the Seer in a fist fight, judging by his dirty tricks. "But that doesn't mean I will enjoy it."

A low chuckle came from Malzahar, head pulling away as he released Talon's wrists from his grasp and stood tall, seemingly unhindered by the wounds that decorated his body under the white bandages. "Good. Cooperation is all I ask of you, assassin. ...I just wish it did not have to be this difficult."

Talon kept his head low, hearing the small, quiet sigh as Malzahar walked from the room. It was only when the assassin also made a motion to stand did he hear the familiar sound of clanking chains, feeling the weight once again appear on his ankles and wrists. Mumbling a small curse, he made his way to the window to stare out at the plummeting raindrops.

He had missed his chance to escape, thrown his freedom away once more and now he had to pay the price for it. Once again, listening to his heart had doomed him. Perhaps forever, this time.

But he couldn't ignore the feeling that came about in his chest from the sudden kiss brought on by Malzahar. There was..._something _there, he knew – but he didn't know what that something may be. Love? Perhaps... if he knew what the feeling was.

Judging by the way that he just handled the situation, though... Talon was certain that he didn't want to feel any more of said 'love' or attraction for a long while.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter VII**

The rain still had not stopped.

For the course of an entire day, the rain fell at the same consistency of when the storm had first reared its head. At first, it was nice - relaxing even; but now, it was growing much colder than the assassin would have liked. He was curled up underneath the heavy blankets that covered his bed, hugging his legs to his chest and curling his toes to try and keep himself warm.

As much as he wouldn't like to admit to it, he was shivering and his teeth were chattering. He was also painfully sure that his nose was growing numb, being that he could no longer feel it. Talon hated the cold – he hated it more than anything else.

Except water, perhaps... but only because he lacked the ability to swim.

To make matters worse, Malzahar's words were still lingering in his mind, and a feeling of hopelessness did make its way into his heart a few times over the last several hours. But, Talon wasn't about to just give up. He had endured worse as a child, much, much worse. Nothing the Prophet could ever do would equate to what he had to push himself through for those eighteen years.

The assassin was determined to survive, and not become sacrifice like Malzahar had said.

Burying his nose under the covers, Talon huffed in anger. Just thinking about the man made his blood boil, and as much as he wished it, his boiling blood wouldn't be enough to make himself warmer. It was a shame, really – now he had to endure both anger, and being chilled to the bone.

He was honestly surprised the rain hadn't turned to ice or snow by this point.

It was only when he felt a sudden weight over him did he make any motion to move himself, raising his head to look up ever so slightly, but keeping his nose under the covers. A warm dark purple cloak was draped over him now, adding to the sheets and radiating its warmth onto him, which was greatly accepted. It wasn't much, but it was enough to sustain him for a little while at least.

"I will have a fire going shortly." Came the Seer's voice, whom was hovering just next to the bed and looking down curiously at Talon, "You should have told me if you were chilled."

"I'm fine." A blatant, spat out lie, but Talon wasn't going to admit to his weakness so easily. From Noxus, one is trained to stay strong, and to shrug off weakness from being burdens, after all. "Just hurry up and get a fire going."

Malzahar chuckled, crossing his arms as his eyes narrowed curiously. "My, so demanding." He began, floating towards the window and leaning against the wall just beside it, "furthermore, if you are going to lie, Talon... you may consider quieting your chattering teeth and stilling your shivering body first."

"Screw off." Talon grumbled, shrugging the sheets up even further over his head until he was almost completely covered. "I didn't ask for your input."

"Nor do most, but that has yet to stop me from giving it." The Prophet shrugged, pulling his dry scarf tighter around his neck to make up for the warmth lost from his cloak.

Talon rolled his eyes. Already, the prophet was trying his patience, and he had only spoken a few words. A hushed sigh came from his parched lips as he slowly forced himself to sit up, leaning against the headboard and wrapping the blankets tightly around his shivering form.

"There is only a few days left, Talon."

That warning made Talon's brow furrow in further annoyance.

"Oh, what joy. I can't wait to be devoured by a some 'Void entity'. Sounds delightful." Sarcasm laced his words heavily, accompanied by several shakes of his head. "You're lucky I don't have my blades, Prophet. I would have did away with you long ago."

"Yes, of course. Just as you did when we first met in the desert, correct?" Malzahar smirked, taking a seat on the bed next to Talon. Without hesitation, his arm outstretched to wrap itself around the assassin as he too relaxed against the headboard. "Your eyes seem tired, Talon. Have you not been sleeping properly?"

Talon growled, averting his dark eyes entirely from the masked Seer. As much as he wished to shrug off the arm around his shoulders, Talon couldn't deny that it was nice to feel the warmth that came from the action. Still, he didn't much enjoy being catered to. He could handle himself just fine.

"Don't touch me." He hissed, eyes flicking over towards Malzahar, who feigned surprise from the sudden hostility. "I don't need your help. I _will _get out of here, and I will **not **succumb to your will. Mark. My. Words."

A sly grin appeared underneath the Seer's purple guise, pulling his arm away from Talon and standing from the bed. The rogue stared silently, questioning his actions, blinking as he also retrieved his purple cloak. Immediately, the chill set in again, making Talon hiss in discontent.

"Very well. If you wish to fend for yourself, I shall leave you here for a while. There are things that require my tending, so I shall be off. Have a good day, Talon."

"Wait a minute-!" Talon called, watching as Malzahar left the room without another word.

In the short moment after he exited the room, the sound of a door opening and closing could be heard, signaling that he had indeed left Talon alone. It was his wish, after all, so he couldn't necessarily complain; even if he were just a tad bit worried. Without proper heat, Talon wasn't sure how long he could last. These blankets were thin, and not enough to sustain as much heat as he required for these temperatures.

Even during his stay on the Noxian streets as a child, Talon didn't have to endure the chill of winter for a long period of time. Often he would sneak into homes, or taverns, and stay there on cold nights unnoticed. It was enough to get by.

But this... this, may just pose a problem.

**(======)**

Several hours had gone by. The rain had calmed itself down, but the cold had only seemingly grown worse as day seeped into night. A freezing wind had also picked up, howling over the dunes and rattling the panes of the closed windows.

Talon's breathing was unsteady, body shivering uncontrollably as he struggled to keep himself warm, and awake. He was fairly sure half of his body had grown numb by this point, given that he lacked any sort of 'warm' clothing or blankets to keep the cold at bay. To make matters worse, Malzahar had yet to return home from whatever it is he ran off to 'tend' to.

Inwardly, Talon threw a slew of curse words at the idiotic man for leaving him here alone without starting a fire and keeping his word. Unless, of course, he had planned this. Intended to test Talon, to see where his breaking point actually _was_ so he could play on it in future situations. It wouldn't surprise the assassin, honestly.

It was a viable tactic, after all; one often used by many Noxian residents.

As if on cue, the distant sound of a door slamming made its way into Talon's ears. Inwardly, the assassin felt a large weight lifted off his shoulders, and the sweet sensation of relief made its way through his freezing limbs. If the Prophet had returned, perhaps he could start a flame in the fireplace, and give the house a bit more warmth to ease Talon back into a warmer temperature.

Agonizing were those short moments that the assassin spent waiting on the Prophet to enter the room. Slowly, he forced his body to move and roll over so he could carefully watch the doorway. From down the hallway, a small flicker of light found its way into the assassin's gaze, making a small, relieved smile grace his chapped lips.

"I take it you don't deal well with cold temperatures, do you?"

The sudden voice made Talon jolt slightly, but he hadn't enough strength to actually turn around and face the Prophet. The shift of the bed as a sudden weight was applied made him realize that Malzahar was sitting right behind him, most likely with that same smug grin on his stupid face, and that ridiculous crossed arms pose that he often favored. Talon scoffed in detest, though he didn't possess the current strength to make a witty retort.

Though, when a warm hand was placed on his cold forehead, Talon shuddered at the sudden warmth, taking in as much of it as he could. Right now, he wanted that warm hand to stay there, anything to just help him warm up ever so slightly. Raising a shaking hand, he placed it atop Malzahar's, not having to voice his desire to get it across to the Seer.

The one behind him then sighed, "Very well. Since you can't properly maintain body heat on your own..."

That snide remark made Talon emit a low growl from the back of his throat. That was, until he was grabbed and turned around so his head was met with a toned, warm chest, and a strong arm and heated cloak was draped over his shivering form. He felt better already, just with this; it felt like heaven, the way his chilled skin was met with a sudden heat that had his blood finally heating up once more.

Talon was sprawled against the Prophet, easing himself as close as he possibly could be to the other male, but keeping himself underneath the warm cloak the best he could. His body was grateful for the heat, even if his mind was crying out in embarrassment of having to receive it from _him _of all people. Nevertheless, the assassin had trained himself to cope with difficult – and embarrassing – situations.

This being the latter.

"There now... Are you warmer?" Malzahar cooed, nuzzling his head against the cool locks of dark brown hair upon the assassin's head, "you are lucky you didn't freeze to death."

"Wonder whose fault that would have been..." Mumbled Talon, wrapping both arms around Malzahar and pulling him closer for added warmth, draping a single leg over both of Malzahar's. He merely received a chuckle of amusement from the other male, meeting said chuckle with a hiss. "You _left me here_ without a fire going."

"Well, you were in such a hurry to shoo me away, what choice did I have? After all... you can handle things just fine on your own, right? That's what you've always told yourself." The Seer's quieted voice somehow didn't make Talon as angry as it should have. Though, he _was_ correct, so he couldn't argue against his words this time.

"It is the Noxian way. Only the strong survive, and if I can't handle myself, then..." Talon's voice trailed off into a hushed whisper, his forehead resting against the other man's collar bone, allowing Malzahar to rest his head atop his own for the time being. It was warm, so he couldn't complain. "I've grown up relying on only myself, no matter the situation."

"Even if it is an idiotic choice?" Questioned the other, "Those thoughts, albeit 'strong' as you would put it... may just be the death of you one day. It is not wrong to ask others for help, nor is it selfish. It is normal, and a natural part of life."

His words were wise, Talon thought; but still not enough to convince him otherwise.

"If you lived my life, you would understand why it is difficult for me to so willingly accept aid from someone else." He growled, raising his head to stare up into the half lidded turquoise eyes that watched him ever so carefully, "Seeing my life in your head simply won't cut it, before you try to reason that with me too."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. That depends on which way you view it, Talon." Malzahar smirked, watching the younger boy as he pulled down his purple face mask, "Are you for certain that I do not understand when you know nothing of _my_ past?"

"Nearly positive." Talon answered, his eyes trailing to stare at the Seer's lips as they curved upwards into a wry grin, only just now taking the time to notice a tiny scar adorning the upper left side of his lip, "Your actions and attitude do not seem like one that has been through much hardships... unless you have trained yourself to put up a guise. Why don't you tell me about your past, and I may be the judge of whether or not you're on par with what I had to go through?"

Malzahar's grin widened as his face drew closer to Talon's, though the rogue seemed to not notice. "I see no reason to do so. It is a long story, and I cannot bother to remember most of it anyway; my mortal life is in the past, and I have tried to forget most of those memories."

"Figures." Talon smirked, feeling the warmth breath tickling his lips, though he didn't speak out against it. "I knew you wouldn't tell me, because then you would risk being wrong for once."

Then, their lips met in a soft, gentle kiss that silenced Talon from further speech. This time, Talon didn't hesitate to push back ever so slightly, sliding his lips along the Prophet's ever so carefully and precisely. The arm draped over him pulled him closer, until his chest met flat with Malzahar's; he was hugging him tightly this time, perhaps to make sure he wouldn't pull an escaping act like before.

Maybe, Talon's thoughts began, maybe this time he would listen to what his heart desired. If only once, perhaps it could lead him somewhere nice? Or, perhaps be his ticket out of this place... either way, he decided it best to just see where this lead, and enjoy the deliciously warm and joyful sensation that flooded his chest like a tidal wave.

As best he could, Talon moved his body upwards to make the kiss more comfortable for the two of them, wiggling until his head was directly next to Malzahar's so he wouldn't need to crane his neck to look down. Indeed, it did help, and made it easier for their lips to lock together fully. Talon's own eyes slid shut this time, allowing himself to become lost in whatever the Prophet had to offer him.

Whatever was happening within his chest, Talon decided he somewhat enjoyed it. Especially considering with the way his cheeks flushed, it brought about warmth that flooded his veins and made him shiver in delight. Greedily, Talon pushed against Malzahar's lips with a bit more force, arms tightly locking around him and holding him in a tight hug.

With the kiss, and their shared body heat, the assassin was warming up rather quickly.

Though even if only for a moment, Talon gave a soft, upset huff as the kiss was broken by the one that had initiated it.

"You're not hesitating this time, I see..." Spoke Malzahar, as he gently kissed the tip of Talon's cool, rosy colored nose, "Have you finally come to terms with your emotions?"

Talon snarled, keeping his dark eyes focused on Malzahar – though he said nothing in reply. As a warm hand graced his cheek, he did nuzzle against it, eyes narrowing as they flicked away from the Prophet. A low chuckle in response, just as he assumed.

"What you feel in your chest right now – that warmth... that, my dear assassin, is what love brings forth." Malzahar's voice was soft, smirking at the quiet growl that once again emerged from Talon's throat, "Don't deny it. It's easy to tell what you're feeling."

"How should I know what love feels like?" Talon grumbled, "Not like I've ever gotten the joy of feeling it before..."

Malzahar sighed quietly, trailing soft kisses from the tip of his nose to his forehead, where a loving kiss lingered before he pulled back to lock eyes with the grumpy assassin. "There is a first time for everything, Talon. Some do not experience it, until much later in their lives."

With an agitated huff, Talon buried his face into Malzahar's chest, no longer wanting to look him in the eyes. As entrancing and mystical as they were, Talon couldn't help but feel like they were staring into his mind, as though he were an open book. Then again, based on what Malzahar had spoken of before... that might not be far from the truth.

As a hand took to sliding up and down his back in a gentle gesture that bestowed calmness, Talon relaxed himself, easing up the hold he had on the Prophet in favor of closing his eyes and keeping silent. There was no need for a response; or so he assumed. Even Malzahar had grown quiet, the two of them simply reveling in the other's warmth and company.

It was quiet moments like these that Talon enjoyed the most.

"Are you falling asleep?"

The sudden question forced Talon's eyes to open, albeit only halfway.

"...Would that bother you?" His response made the hand on his back stop its motions, instead placing itself flat against the center of his back as though holding him in place. This was warm, and nice, so to be quite honest, he truly wouldn't mind sleeping here cradled in this warmth.

Malzahar smiled, closing his blue eyes and once more resting his head atop Talon's, keeping him held close. "Not if you're tired. I could use a small rest, myself..."

For once in a long while, Talon felt the corners of his lips twitching up into a genuine comfortable smile as he allowed his eyes to close once again. It wasn't one laced with sarcasm or annoyance, like most of his smiles were; for whatever reason, he felt truly at ease next to the Prophet, in this position. He couldn't explain why, nor did he really _need_ a reason for it.

"Sleep well, my dearest assassin."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **I apologize for my absence! Life kinda took over and I got pretty busy with other things for a while. But I'm back now, and updates should hopefully resume at a steadier pace! Sorry for the long wait, and thank you again to everyone that has favorited, followed, and reviewed this story so far!

**Chapter VIII**

Talon wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, or how much time had passed.

He awoke to a warm room, sprawled out upon the bed and staring blankly at the smooth ceiling above. Talon's dark eyes were heavy, threatening to close once more as if in need of sleep, to which, he was; it was rare for the man to actually have a decent night's sleep. Not that it mattered. Years of training left him used to the feeling of exhaustion, pushing through it without a care.

But, Talon was unsure of if he should be glad, or worried that he saw nothing in his dreams while he slept.

Not that he wished to take the time to ponder it, of course. Worrying about something that was currently not in his power was senseless, and only a waste of time in his opinion. Right now, he needed to sit up and see if a certain man was lurking in the vicinity of the home.

During his rest, he was disturbed in the middle of the night by the Prophet slipping away from him, leaving his side in a hurry as though he no longer wished to be near the assassin. It had bothered him, yes; even moreso that he never was told exactly _where_ Malzahar was going when he would leave in such a rush. Perhaps it was just his natural curiosity and his need to know every little detail about a situation, but it certainly angered him that he was left out and not even given a proper goodbye, or even a note to tell him where the Prophet had gone to.

Exhaling a breath, Talon eased himself into a calmer state of mind - now was not a time to be angered, and he needed to relax. The Prophet worked in mysterious ways. The assassin... wasn't too approving of it, in some cases, but he chose to ignore the matter for the time being.

As he leaned himself against the headboard of the bed, Talon blinked and glanced around the room slowly. Nothing, not even a glass of water or a plate of food had been left out for him. Typical, he thought; first having to deal with nearly freezing to death, and now he had to deal with not having a proper breakfast.

Of course, coming from him, that was certainly normal and a natural part of his life.

"Malzahar? Are you here?" Talon called, loud enough to ring out into the other rooms of the small sandstone home and hopefully gain his attention, "Or are you off moping in a corner somewhere?"

"In a corner, yes; moping, no."

Not surprisingly, Talon nearly jumped out of the bed as a voice appeared to the left of him. His head shot in that direction, eyes gaining sight of the relaxed looking Seer, leaning against the corner of the room with his arms crossed and eyes staring inquisitively at the younger man. The assassin could tell he possessed a smile, due to the way his eyelids fell halfway upon being noticed by him – a smile to which Talon met with an angered frown and a hiss of discontent.

"Just where did you come from?!" Talon snapped, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing just in front of the Prophet, "And why must you always vanish without telling me where you're going?"

His lips were met with a single, gloved finger that was capable of silencing him without words.

"Shhh. One question at a time, Talon." Malzahar sighed, heavily, before continuing with what he had to say. "One, I assumed you held enough intellect in your brain to realize that I am capable of teleportation. Two, something came up, and I needed to leave immediately."

At that, Talon rose an eyebrow, the finger sliding from his lips and instead placing itself directly underneath his chin. His head was raised, and Malzahar floated closer, staring down at the assassin from his current position in the air. Well, he didn't _seem_ off in any way, from what Talon could tell.

Still, that didn't excuse him from his actions.

"Something came up? That conveniently? You honestly expect me to believe that?" A sarcastic, mocking chuckle came from the assassin, one that made Malzahar stop and furrow his brow. "No, no... I'm not a fool. You will not play as me as such. Tell me where you went, _Prophet_."

Talon's words were sharp, demanding, and toxic. The perfect embodiment of a cold, smooth killer that held not many regards for others around him. It was clear that when he spoke, he demanded a proper answer.

It was the augur's turn to sound slightly annoyed, placing his palm upon Talon's shoulder and guiding him back to the bed. "Fine. If you truly wish for an answer, I will tell you. I cannot guarantee you will be pleased, nor believe me... but I will speak."

Talon simply nodded in return, seating himself on the bed and staring up at the Prophet as he leaned against the wall once more. He crossed his arms, plainly seen due to the lack of his cloak, as his eyes shut softly. Talon could tell he was in thought, most likely trying to recall every bit and piece that he could. Not that he minded the wait.

If it meant more of an answer, Talon could wait for several hours.

"As you may know, I am an entity of the Void. Humans are... rare, to come by within the Void... The only ones that exist there are ones that have been sentenced to sacrifice, and are soon feasted upon by the monstrosities that live within its twisting depths. ...But there was one man that made it through. Resisted its will, but at the price of accepting its essence into his body to ensure his life, and prevent its spawns from feeding upon him."

Malzahar seemed to trail off, then. Eyes opening halfway and head tilting slightly to the side as his eyes flicked over to the window. He appeared as though he were in a haze, and remained completely still for several moments before resuming his speech.

"I met him for the first time long ago. But I did not tell him my purpose on that day. We spoke... grew closer... and eventually, formed a strong bond and relationship with one another."

"And what of him now...?" Talon questioned, leaning forward and resting his arms upon his knees as he listened to the tale. It was interesting, at the very least; he never knew that most humans didn't make it out of the Void alive. Yet, it was also worrying.

"I... well, eventually, I had to tell him of my plans to overtake Runeterra and allow the Void to consume it and its residents. To say the least, he didn't take it in the least bit well... and from there, we became enemies. Now each time we see one another we often times quarrel, instead of smiling and speaking in a civil manner. Sadly, there is nothing 'civil' about that man any longer. He seeks to destroy me, my cause, and the Void – but that is a goal he will not achieve alone. From what my visions have granted me, I have already foreseen his downfall."

"So you plan to kill him, then?"

"You make it sound rather simple, but... yes, more or less. Those who oppose the Void's will do not deserve life, much less deserve its powers. But..." Again, he trailed off into a heavy sigh, placing a hand upon his forehead and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"But...?" Talon questioned, gesturing with his hand to tell the other to continue his speech.

"He is a key. We both are. With his blade, and my dagger..." As he spoke, Malzahar lifted a small dagger from the sash around his hips. A golden bladed dagger inlaid with beautiful jade markings and pulsating turquoise gems – its mere presence nearly made Talon's jaw drop. "We could open a rift large enough to either suck in a majority of this world into the Void, or... release the nether's creatures upon humanity. Either way, we are a lock and key. When put together, he and I could do anything... but at the same time, cannot exist without the other."

"So he seeks to eliminate you in order to destroy the 'lock' as you would call it? Sounds like he has his plans in check." The assassin nodded, quite impressed. If he were in the same situation as the man Malzahar spoke of, he would formulate a plan that did something along the same lines. "But if he hates you, and the Void, how do you plan to turn him over towards your side?"

Malzahar chuckled, turning his head to stare down at the curious boy as he placed his dagger down on the small bedside table for the time being. "Simple. I don't. I plan to kill him, and take his blade for my own usage. With it, I can do as I please with this world, and I will possess both the lock and the key of the Void. But, even then, it would pose a problem... as I do not possess the powers that he does. Our abilities are different, though bestowed upon us by the same source. Try as I might, I will never change that man's mind, no matter what method of approach I decide to use. Speech, coaxing, seduction... I've used just about any trick I could possibly think of."

"Honestly, I can't blame him for standing against you." Talon huffed, noticing the hurt that immediately went into Malzahar's eyes as a frown appeared on his lips underneath his mask. "You want to destroy everything. It's crazy, and selfish; you don't care about anyone but yourself and this stupid Void of yours."

At that, Talon stood, stepping in front of Malzahar and gripping onto his scarf with both hands, pulling him close so their faces were mere inches away form one another. The assassin's eyes narrowed, snarling at the other man who simply stared blankly back at him. His next words were a low hiss, angered and menacing.

"Mark my words right now, Prophet... I don't know what you intend to do with me, or how you plan to sacrifice me to the Void. But if I escape, and if I resist its will just like he did... I will find you. And I _will _stop you. Don't think for a moment that I'm afraid to run a dagger through your throat, regardless of how we may treat one another, or how 'nice' you may be to me."

"Such hostility, Talon..." The Seer smirked, grasping onto the rogue's cheeks with his hands and holding his head in place. "Your determination is outstanding. It only makes me even further attracted to you.. I cannot wait until you join my cause, and remain by my side in immortality forever. That is, if you actually survive the sacrifice..."

A low, animalistic growl erupted from the back of Talon's throat as he released his grip on Malzahar and shrugged off the hands on his cheeks as he stepped away. He began to pace back and forth in the room, nearly stomping as he muttered incoherent sentences under his breath in a fit of rage. If anything, it was amusing to watch; at least to the Seer.

"Calm yourself, Talon, I merely jest. You will live through it. The void has already assured me of that fact." The Seer stated with a slight wave of his hand, Talon's threat seemingly not even having the slightest of impacts upon his mood. "You are far too easy to rile up."

It was only when arms draped around his shoulders and pulled him back against a strong body did Talon stop his pacing. A hand immediately gripped onto his neck, lightly, but enough to hold his head in place as Malzahar nuzzled their cheeks together. Talon snarled at the action, finding this becoming more of a sick game rather than anything else; this man was crazy, but he realized that fact long ago.

"Dearest Talon... one way or another, you will become mine. I will see to it." Talon hissed in reply, struggling against Malzahar's iron-like grasp. "Stop trying to resist it. I'm not going to harm you, and neither will the Void... I will see to that."

His words only made the assassin calm down slightly, and although his struggling stopped, his growling continued. Though that only lasted long enough for their lips to connect with one another once the Prophet rose Talon's head back a bit more, placing a hand upon his chest and pulling his body back until he rested fully against Malzahar. While it may have been a bit awkward, Talon seemed to be the only one that disliked it; but only because he was frustrated out of his mind and wanted to be alone for a while.

Determination fueled the assassin from henceforth, shown easily as he aimed a strong jab at Malzahar's abdomen with his elbow. It was enough to break the hold the Prophet held on him – enough to allow Talon to scramble away until he was nearly on the other side of the room. A fierce glare made home on his facial expression, brown eyes dark and filled with anger as he carefully watched the other male recollect himself.

"...Was that necessary?" Even though he was in a small amount of pain, Malzahar still found the nerve to smile wide at the assassin, though once he saw that Talon's expression was unmoved, a loud sigh escaped his lips. "Talon, what is it that troubles you? Why do you reject me today, when you did no such thing yesterday?"

Talon's eyes averted themselves, flicking over to the far wall. They fell shut as he crawled onto the bed without a word, keeping his back turned to the Prophet, no longer wishing to even _see_ his face at the current moment. Yet, just as he expected, a warm body was soon placed against his back, arms wrapping around him as Malzahar nuzzled his face against Talon's cheek.

"I shouldn't allow myself to get close to you." Talon's voice was a low whisper, one that Malzahar barely managed to pick up on. It was hushed, and almost sounded uncertain; inwardly, the assassin battled against his own emotions. "Just as I've never allowed myself to be close to anyone... I can't allow myself to start now."

Malzahar lay against him, blue eyes narrowing in thought, until a quiet huff of breath broke the silence.

"Talon..." His voice was stern, arms wrapping tighter around his assassin as though hugging him would ease away any negative feelings he currently held. "Please, do not be upset with me... What I do is merely for your own good. Even the Void has told me so."

Talon listened, though the only thing he gave in response was a low grunt of annoyance.

"The Void will grant you immortality, something that will rid you of any weaknesses you currently possess. Mortality is weak – you, are not. With my help, you can become even _stronger_ than you are currently."

Malzahar spoke gently, trying a softer tone of voice in hopes it would make Talon believe him. It took nearly a minute, but soon, he felt the assassin shift slightly in his arms, the Prophet raising his head back as Talon's turned to look back at him. However, his dark eyes were still cold, and their gazes met for only a split second before the Noxian snarled and allowed his head to fall back down to the pillow.

"Save it." Talon grumbled, a puff of warm breath tickling the back of his neck as Malzahar moved away from him, standing from the bed and looking down upon him.

"Very well. I will leave you be for a little while. Is there anything you need?"

"Food." The assassin demanded simply, trying to ignore his stomach that was groaning in pain from not being fed for nearly a day. "Food, and water."

It was then that the Prophet left his presence entirely, vanishing from the room as he would normally do. A wave of relief rushed through Talon, thankful to finally be left alone to gather his thoughts in silence. Yet, as he rolled over and opened his eyes, they instantly trailed to a curious item that now sat on the small table at the side of the bed.

Immediately, he shot up, crawling over and sitting at the edge of the bed. His hands snatched the item, holding it as though it were the most fragile work of art to grace his fingertips. It was a dagger. A golden bladed dagger that rested in a dark sheath - Malzahar's dagger, the 'key' to the Void.

Pulling it from its sheath, his fingertips ran along the sharpened edge, nearly cutting into his skin from the slightest of touches. His lips twitched upwards into a near grin as he inspected the item, the blade gleaming in what light was allowed entry into the small bedroom. This... could just be his ticket out of here.

Finally, he would be able to not only make his mark, but also break his shackles and free him of this place.

All he'd need... is a little bit of patience.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter IX**

Talon had taken care to hide the dagger underneath the large pillow of the bed, slipping it just far enough underneath to hide it from plain sight. Malzahar hadn't seemed to have even noticed the precious item was missing from his belt, not even bothering to bring it up as he delivered the basket of assorted fruits and freshly baked bread to the hungry assassin. Talon didn't hesitate to greedily scarf the food down, engaging in idle conversation with the Prophet before he lay back down for a nap, resting on his stomach with one arm atop the pillow as if to guard the dagger with extra care.

When Talon's weary eyes opened once more, it was the dead of night. The room was eerily silent, not even the screech of a night bird able to be heard outside his window; it was unusual, but his thoughts were currently too groggy to even bother thinking too far on the subject. Blinking several times to help himself wake up, he also slid a single finger along the hilt of the dagger just to make sure it was still there, a tired smile curling on his lips from simply feeling its presence.

Talon huffed as he placed his hands beside his torso, pushing himself up as he looked to his right, and then to his left. He was alone, as usual, and the chains were still attached tightly to his wrists to prevent his escape. At least this time, the room was warmer than the previous night.

Though it didn't provide much comfort.

Smoothing his shirt and pulling his hood up to cover his head, Talon stumbled his way over to the far window. Sticking his head out as far as he was allowed, his eyes trailed up towards the dark night sky after examining the tall dunes in the distance. Upon looking to the far left, Talon's eyes narrowed in confusion.

The sky... had changed?

Talon's eyes stared blankly at the ominous purple clouds that rose in the distance, shrouding the starry night with a dreadful haze. He wasn't sure what to make of it, nor was he sure what he felt. Perhaps it was fear that was creeping into his mind as he pulled his head from the window and took a step back, eyes fixated blankly on what little he could see of the outside world.

Fear was an emotion he hadn't felt in a long time, not since the days when he was small - he was certain it was the emotion that was crowding his thoughts at the current moment.

"You've noticed."

The voice that made itself known made Talon's lips immediately curl into a snarl, head swiftly turning to match gazes with the Prophet.

"What is all of that?!" Talon asked, sounding a bit angrier than he had intended; but it was completely called for, he imagined.

"Calm yourself." Malzahar ordered, placing a hand on Talon's shoulder and gripping lightly, "Your calling. That... is what is out there."

Talon blinked in complete confusion, head slowly turning to look back at the circular window.

"...The Void?"

"Yes. Does it frighten you? Your expression seems troubled." Malzahar's hand moved to rest on Talon's chin, pulling his head back around so their eyes could once again meet, even if the assassin was content with staring at the far wall.

The Prophet didn't receive an answer to his question, glowing eyes narrowing as he looked down at the strong male in front of him.

"Talon... I know that it might seem... scary. However, I have already spoken with the Void, and it has assured me that this new life will be much better than your old one, as I've told you many times before. You must learn to leave your mortal self behind... join me, and stay by my side in immortality."

Malzahar's words only troubled the assassin further, his dark eyes staring the other down like a hawk.

"And what of Noxus? Lady Katarina, Cassiopeia... the General?" Talon asked, "what shall I do about them?"

"You may still see them. Should they accept you in the new form you will be given. Perhaps your new form shall even hasten your search for the General." Malzahar spoke with a large, warm smile, one that somewhat comforted the assassin, though not nearly as much as the Prophet may have hoped for.

Talon just couldn't shake the thought of fleeing while he still had the chance, so it made it difficult for him to truly be comforted.

Soon... if the time was right, and if he was escorted away from the home with Malzahar... perhaps...

"Maybe." Came his simple reply, his lips being met with a gentle peck from the other. "...Malzahar..."

"Do love me yet, Talon?" The Prophet asked with a grin, hearing a smirk come from the assassin.

"I still don't know what you expect. You've held me hostage, stripped me of my blades, forgotten to feed me a couple times, nearly left me to die in the cold... and you wish to know if I _love_ you?" Talon seemed, at most, appalled, though his expression didn't speak for his heart. "...Call me a fool, but I do feel _something_ for you. Even if I shouldn't."

Malzahar's grin didn't falter. "Good to know. We shall have to learn to tolerate one another, given we will be together for eternity."

The thumb lightly stroking his cheek made Talon also give a warm smile. Though behind the smile, his mind was at work. Win the Prophet over, get him to remove the chains, if only for a little while... and then escape. Simple, but it was only simple within his mind.

Performing the actions required would be... difficult.

"Icathia beckons. We should go." Malzahar lifted Talon's arms, placing his hands lightly over the chains that bound them.

Immediately, they vanished, as though they were never present in the first place - not a single link of chain was left behind. Talon breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing his aching wrists, though scowling at the pain the raw skin brought. He had been in chains for so long, it was no wonder his skin had been rubbed raw.

"I trust you, Talon." Malzahar began, moving over to the window to look out at the sky above, deep purple slowly leaking into the dark blue of night. "I will not put you in chains for our journey there. It will be a dangerous road, but we shouldn't have many problems if you keep beside me."

With the Prophet fixated on the sky and speaking away to the assassin about their upcoming journey, Talon quieted his breathing. His eyes hastily glanced to the bed, soon fixated upon the undisturbed pillow at the headboard. Malzahar's dagger was there, and now was his chance.

Talon gulped, the Prophet not taking notice of the way he slowly inched towards the bed. His hand extended until it was underneath the pillow, fingers slowly curling around the leather wrapped hilt of the small blade. It felt all too comfortable in his hand as he lifted it, careful to not drag it across the sheets and make a sound that would alert the other.

Inhaling a breath, Talon held it as he slowly approached the Prophet's form, biting his lower lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. His heart twitched, aching as he rose the dagger above Malzahar's back, part of his mind begging him to not go through with it. It pained him; but this was his only chance at escape, his only way to reclaim his freedom, even if it may be selfish.

It was just like before; just like long ago, when he had killed his only friend as a child... the thought flashed through his mind for a moment, and a surge of adrenaline rushed through his veins.

The assassin closed his eyes as he drove the dagger down, heart racing and chest being filled with an unsteady pain.

This was it.

It happened as fast as one could blink. The dagger pierced through the Prophet's neck, blade ripping through the flesh and coating the assassin's hands in blood. He released a heavy breath as he felt the warm liquid stain his fingertips, dark eyes slowly opening to inspect his work.

A dull copper taste coated his bottom lip due to how hard he had bitten into it, running his tongue along it to clean it of blood as he withdrew the dagger, feeling the body slump back against him helplessly. Talon couldn't bring himself to look at his victim, keeping his head turned away as he pulled him towards the bed and placed him down. Hastily, he grasped the blankets, pulling them up over the Prophet's body, but stopping just before they reached his lips. It was only then that the assassin's eyes accidentally caught sight of Malzahar's expression.

Talon could only stare blankly, a shock of sorrow rushing through him at seeing Malzahar's blue eyes that were focused forward. Dead, lifeless, and no longer glowing. It sent a chill racing through Talon's veins, the dull feeling of nausea paining his stomach from the sight alone. He... truly _wasn't_ immortal, like he had said - was it a lie?

The Noxian never wished to see Malzahar like this, never wished to be the one to _cause_ him to be like this. Yet... it was something that had to be done. For his freedom, for his General... Talon couldn't leave him behind, and become a Voidborn - not yet, not while he was still out there somewhere.

"I'm sorry." The assassin whispered, placing his hand over Malzahar's eyes to draw his eyelids down to close them, "...I can't. I can't join the Void and leave everything behind, Malzahar, I-"

Intaking a shaking breath, he lowered himself down to place a lingering kiss on the Prophet's still warm lips. His heart felt like it was shattering the longer he stayed near the Seer's broken form, no longer wishing to see him this way, or even be in the near vicinity of him. He needed to leave immediately, less he risk losing himself to his own stubborn emotions.

Grabbing Malzahar's cape from the bedside where he had left it, Talon pulled it around his figure and hastily donned his metal boots. From there, he fled the room and flung open the creaking wooden door to the outside, slamming it shut behind him - no one was around to hear the noise, so he wasn't at all concerned with quieting his actions. Now... began the hard part. The trek across the desert, during the night, without food, nor water.

Stepping forward, Talon's eyes drew upwards to the sky, looking at the dark purple that stained the deep blue like an intricate work of art. Lightning crackled in the distance, illuminating the dark clouds that loomed there. Unconsciously, Talon's hands clenched into fists - the warm blood still present on his fingertips.

A storm was coming.

**(======)**

His breathing was labored, legs aching as he stepped up yet another dune. It had begun to rain, pelting him with freezing droplets as the sand below him sloshed with each step. It was hard to keep moving, his mind wanting nothing more but to find a safe spot to rest until the storm had passed.

Yet, there was no way he could stop.

Talon needed to be as far away from Shurima as possible, away from Malzahar's home; guilt was still heavy in his heart, and he needed to leave, to vanish from the desert.

His hands shifted the drenched cloak, pulling it tighter around him as if to help keep in the warmth. Talon's limbs were aching, both from the chill that was slowly numbing his skin and also from having to traverse the dunes in such weather. His mind was beginning to shut down, and his instinct of survival beginning to kick in.

The only problem, was there was no form of shelter in sight, he lacked proper heat, and held no food nor water.

A loud crack of thunder boomed overhead, startling Talon and making him lose his footing. He dropped to his knees, sliding part of the way down the dune before catching himself with his hands. Hissing, Talon scowled at the sand below him, watching as the tiny grains would sometimes jump upwards as the heavy raindrops pelted and jarred it from its resting place. With a shaking huff, Talon forced himself up the dune, using his hands and feet to propel him forward in a rigid climbing motion.

Back on his feet once at the top of the dune, the assassin continued walking.

Ten minutes had passed, soon turning into thirty.

Upon reaching nearly an hour of traveling, Talon's legs gave out underneath him and he collapsed in an exhausted heap. His legs ached far too much to keep going, the numbness from the cold finally setting in and rendering them completely useless; even with his blood moving from the constant walking, it wasn't enough to keep him heated. The chill of the desert night was certainly as unforgiving as he had been told.

Talon growled – he couldn't just stop here.

Though his breathing was heavy, and his mind was completely numb, he outstretched his arm in front of him. Dragging himself forward was the only way to keep going, even if it wasn't a good way of moving fast. At least his arms still retained some feeling in them, and he planned to use them until he tired them out entirely.

Which, unfortunately, took a mere five minutes.

Talon was strong, but dragging his weight across wet sand during heavy rains would wear down even the toughest of men. He was no exception, now laying helpless in the middle of nowhere, breathing heavily as he struggled to intake breath. With his body rendered nearly useless, Talon only assumed that he would die here in the sands, just like many others before him.

Travelers that were unprepared never made it far in Shurima; the sands consumed them, and they were never heard from again.

"Malz..." Talon whimpered, unconsciously - his fingers curled in the wet sand, crushing the grain between them before driving his fist down into the dune in a rather lackluster punch.

The Prophet was dead; there was no way he could come to his rescue this time.

The assassin's bottom lip quivered. For once, in a long time, he truly felt like he was going to die. Outmatched by the harsh temperatures of nature once more.

His eyelids were growing heavy. What little feeling he still possessed in his body was nothing but stings of pain that slowly turned over to helpless numbness. There was nothing more he could do; he had killed the only one that would be capable of protecting him, saving him in his time of need.

Or, time of _stupidity_, as Talon was willing to admit to himself.

What a fool he was, he mentally scolded himself; allowing his eyelids to close as the rain fell atop his collapsed form. His fingers uncurled in the sand, resting limply against the ground below as he muttered a quiet curse. Despite how numb his mind truly was, his thoughts were still drawn to the Prophet; his name playing through his head numerous times, growing fainter as he slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

Malzahar... truly was the one that his heart belonged to - no matter how foolish he was for giving it away so easily.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter X**

It felt like a dream.

In front of him, stood Malzahar – that same smirk on his lips that he always wore. His blue eyes were watching him carefully, eyeing him up and down as if watching his every movement. Talon's fingers were twitching in response, body shaking, as if out of fear.

The Prophet opened his mouth to speak, yet no words emerged; he simply stared at the assassin, as if expecting him to do something specific.

Talon was at a loss for words.

His arm raised, extending towards Malzahar. He wanted to reach out and touch him, just once, and only once. Place his hand on his shoulder, as if to test and see if he was truly a solid form in front of his very eyes.

Yet, the closer he got, the further the Prophet appeared to be from him. It began to grow ridiculous, as Talon broke out into a near sprint, trying to catch Malzahar whom wasn't drawing closer in the slightest. Until a single moment, when Talon cried out his name.

"Malzahar!" The assassin called, and immediately, he drew closer, as though the magic spell that had limited their distance had been shattered.

Closer, and closer, until his fingers were mere inches away from reaching his shoulder.

Everything immediately froze; Talon's body was kept in place, mid run, fingers just barely touching the cloth of Malzahar's scarf. His blue eyes were alight with a soft glow as he narrowed them, smiling wide at the assassin. Yet, the Prophet made no move to take his hand, instead floating back away from him before soon disappearing into the darkness.

Talon's eyes widened in shock at the quiet, saddened whisper that filled his ears next, as though Malzahar was still just next to him.

"You're a fool."

** (======)**

Talon's body jolted as a rough hand touched his forehead.

Brown eyes shot open, the assassin crying out the name of the Prophet as he sat up, startling the man next to him as he took a few steps back. Talon groaned in pain, placing his hands on both sides of his aching head as he breathed heavily, trying to shake away the feeling of nausea that also plagued his stomach. The dream coupled with the previous events left his nerves in a fritz - he hadn't even noticed the man next to him, until a pair of large hands gripped onto his shoulders and forced him back down onto the bed.

Though Talon was reluctant of the touch, he hadn't the strength to shy away from the man's wishes.

"Lay down, boy." The man growled in a light accent, pulling the blanket back up over the trembling Noxian. "You're in no condition to be movin' around so much."

Talon's dark eyes flicked over to the one that had issued such an order, his curiosity becoming piqued.

This man... didn't seem to be Shurimian at all. His face was aged, thin age lines trailing along the bridge of his nose and under his dark eyes – he was clearly in his mid, to late fourties, Talon assumed. A dark brown, scruffy beard was plastered over the bottom half of his face, equally dark brown hair slicked back on his head to keep it from obscuring his vision.

Though, what drew Talon's attention the most, was the worn brown cigar that rested between his pale lips.

"Who... are you?" The assassin asked, gulping as he realized just how parched he truly was. His lips were as dry as his mouth, making it hard for him to speak properly.

"Call me Graves." He replied, walking across the room and taking a seat in one of the wooden chairs that rested around a small, circular table. Atop the table lay a stack of playing cards, a box of cigars, a lighter, and a large canteen. It wasn't much, but it was enough for even the most basic of travelers."You're lucky, boy... you nearly died out there. Hadn't been for me, you would've been buzzard bait."

"...You don't look to be from around here." Talon stated bluntly, ignoring the introduction as he addressed the main issue that was on his mind at the current moment.

He earned a smirk in response.

"Got that right. Not from these parts at all. Merely travelin'." Graves scratched the scruff of his beard as he leaned back in the chair, kicking his legs up onto the table as his sharp eyes watched the assassin slowly push himself into sitting against the headboard. "I'm a drifter. I go wherever the road takes me."

Talon nodded in understanding.

"Road took me to you, last night. Found you in the mornin' right after the rain had stopped. You were nearly dead, boy; your skin was cold, and your pulse was faint, I was sure the desert had claimed you before I had found you."

"Yet... you saved me?"

"Sure did." Graves held a proud expression as he lifted the silver canteen, rolling it over in his hands a couple times to test how much water was left inside, before turning his gaze towards the Noxian. "Here. Catch."

Talon rose a hand to catch the canteen as Graves tossed it at him, eagerly proceeding to unscrew the lid and gulp it down greedily. The water was consumed so fast, Talon nearly choked, sputtering a little and earning an amused chuckle from Graves. He couldn't help but drink quickly – it felt like heaven to his dry mouth, after all.

"Slow down, there's plenty where that came from." Graves snorted, placing a hand on the table as he let out a quiet huff. "...Where you from, boy? You don't seem to be from here either."

The assassin released a pleased sigh as he finished drinking to his fill, growling under his breath at the question. He couldn't tell the outlaw where he hailed from; Noxus was hated by most of Runeterra. It was a risky move, that could perhaps put his life in jeopardy once again.

Thus, he did the only thing possible.

"...I'm a drifter, just like you. Don't know where my 'home' is." Talon lied, watching Grave's lower lip curl upwards in an expression of interest. "I... uh... came at a bad time to this desert, I suppose..."

A loud guffaw came from the outlaw, "No kiddin'! Nearly cost you your life. Only a fool would travel the sands during a monsoon."

Dark eyes lowering, Talon placed the canteen down on the floor beside the bed as he lowered himself back down under the covers. His body still ached for rest; he needed it, after all he had been through. He only hoped that Graves wouldn't object to him staying around for a little while longer.

"I'm... going to rest a bit longer, if that's alright... I'll leave by morning."

Graves nodded, pulling the cards from the table as he began to shuffle them between both hands in expert, trained motions. "Suit yourself. I don't mind you stickin' around. Stay as long as you need."

** (======)**

It was the dead of night and a harsh wind was blowing outside, rattling the windows of the small inn.

Talon tossed and turned in his bed; his sleep had been long since disturbed, ever since the wind had begun to howl. Part of him didn't wish to sleep any longer, but given just how tired he truly was, he attempted it. The bed was comfortable enough, so there was no harm in it.

But, the wind outside held other plans.

With a heavy, frustrated sigh, Talon gave up. He stood from his bed, placing a hand on the far wall to steady himself. His legs were still rather sore yesterday, but he would fair rather well with walking, at the very least; running, could be another story.

Dark eyes darted around the room, spying nothing out of the ordinary. Graves seems to have gone elsewhere, no longer present, as far as Talon could see; the stack of cards and box of cigars had disappeared from the table. Only a metal canteen that was half full of water had been left behind.

In the very corner of the room, however, Talon spotted something that made his blood run cold.

Malzahar's dagger, and cloak; neatly folded, with the golden dagger resting idle on top.

Talon stumbled his way towards the items, dropping to his knees next to them. His fingers lightly stroked the fabric, before they curled themselves around the delicate dagger. There were still traces of blood adorning the gold of the blade, staining it, almost as if it had been burnt into the metal as a grim reminder.

His eyes even grimaced as he stared at the blade, holding it up towards the window and allowing the moonlight to shine upon the stained metal.

"...For such a beautiful dagger, it's rather flimsy... the blade is far too thin to cope with an actual battle..." Talon mumbled to himself, turning the dagger over and over in his hands, "Guess this is what he meant by a 'sacrifical dagger'. Why would you even carry it around with you in the first place...?"

Just as he was about to say his name, Talon stopped himself.

Snarling in frustration, he stood, grabbing the cloak from the floor and wrapping it hastily around his figure. His hands grasped the canteen and the dagger, tucking them both safely into the blue belt that wrapped around his hips. There seemed to be nothing else of value in the room for him to scavenge, so he promptly took what he had and left.

Quietly, he shut the door behind him and stepped carefully through the hall of the inn. The floorboards creaked as he took each step with his metal boots, though Talon hadn't a care; he swiftly fled the small shelter and stepped out into the quiet village. Everyone was asleep, as far as he could tell – it was definitely a very late hour.

The only ones roaming the desert streets now were beggars and thieves; ironically, he felt almost at home in the company of such people.

The wind rushed past him as he made his way through the center of the village, cooling his warm cheeks. The thought of the Prophet had... angered him, in an odd way. Angered him, due to his own weakness, and the way he had dealt with the problem.

Yet, in his mind; it was the only way he knew how.

Violence solves everything. It was Noxus's way of dealing with those that caused trouble. In his thoughts, stealing his heart and attempting to sacrifice him to some dark entity was... a large amount of trouble.

Though he couldn't deny that each time he thought of the Seer, his heart gave a small jolt to his senses.

A jolt of pain, and regret.

Just then, at that very moment, Talon froze. A sudden gust of wind carried much more with it than just sand, this time. A low howl; a word seemed to have been spoken, carried by the air itself.

"Talon."

His lips quivered, biting the inside of his lower lip with his canine. Talon's hawk-like gaze scanned the area, looking past the sandstone houses that brought forth barely any light. Yet, he saw nothing.

Passing it off as an odd coincidence of the wind, he exhaled a shaking breath and continued moving.

He had taken not even ten steps, when he heard it again. Clearer, louder this time; it seemed playful, yet wise. Like it knew of his troubles, knew exactly what he had done and what plagued his heart.

It sounded like his voice, and Talon knew he couldn't mistake it.

He ignored it, and continued onwards, picking up his steps with a bit more life and spring to them, ignoring the dull pain that continued to course through his legs. He was nearly running by the time he had gotten to the outskirts of the city, only to be met with a large wooden gate that had been raised just after dusk. Cursing under his breath, Talon looked around frantically.

A large wall, made of sandstone shielded the city from the creatures that crawled through the dunes. It was all that stood in his way of freedom, by this point. He didn't wish to stay in this city for a second longer, so he would need to scour for another way around.

It was then, out of the corner of his eyes that he saw a faint glimmer of blue. Two, glowing blue orbs that stared at him from the shadows cast by two buildings. His head snapped around quickly, though they had faded just as soon as they had appeared.

It was beginning to rattle his nerves – everything was beginning to become a bit too... eerie for his tastes.

Almost as if a certain someone was taking pride in haunting him.

Growling, Talon slung the long edges of the cloak over his shoulders, making a makeshift cape. Moving to the sandstone wall, his hands and feet fumbled around the rocky, smooth surface, trying to find any form of irregularity he could use as a foothold. After a few moments of searching, he found a particularly rocky spot, where it hadn't yet been sanded down.

It was a little difficult to navigate, by the looks of it... but it would need to do.

One step up, followed by two. Talon carefully gripped and placed his feet onto the small round edges that jutted forth from the wall, pulling himself upwards. He was used to this sort of thing, so he was able to climb it rather quickly with little problems – as a child, he had climbed many worse for wear walls in Noxus, and even more so when he became an assassin serving General Du Couteau.

Talon was used to scaling rather... odd places, so his training proved useful here once more.

Once at the top of the wall, Talon exhaled a heavy breath. Looking out over the dunes, his eyes narrowed. The sky was clear, on this night, and the air was warm; perhaps the only thing he would need to worry about were the creatures of the desert, but even then, he was an expert at knowing when to run or fight, so he could handle himself just fine.

Or, so he hoped.

Nimbly, he lowered himself down the other side of the wall, down onto the soft sand. He quickly pulled the cloak around his form once more, pulling up his hood and giving one last check to his side to make sure the canteen and dagger were still in place. With everything accounted for, he took a step forward and began his journey through the desert.

This place seemed to be on the outskirts, near the border of Mount Gargantuan. If he could just make it to the Mogron Pass, he would be home free; it was only a short trek from there to Noxus, so he should be able to navigate it with little effort. His legs were feeling a bit better now that they had had a small workout, easing the aching muscles that once nearly prevented him from walking.

Talon was on his way home, now, and while he should feel joyous, his heart was plagued with a heavy burden. One that stopped him in his tracks after only a few minutes of traveling. His fingers curled into tight fists as he let out a low growl.

He had heard it again.

The wind – calling his name in a familiar voice.

As he tried to step forward, a sudden gust forced him backwards, nearly toppling him over. It was trying to tell him something, and he was nearly too stubborn to listen. Well, at first he was; now, he was simply growing annoyed.

"What?!" Talon shouted, raising his voice nearly as loud as it could go, looking up towards the starry dark sky. "What do you want?!"

A laugh, this time, a wisp that drew by his ears.

"Do you find this funny?" Talon growled, "I can hear you, if that's what you're trying to prove. I can hear you, and you're growing annoying!"

It pushed him again, this time with enough force to literally land him on his behind in the sand.

Talon hissed a low curse.

"Talon."

Again, it spoke his name; this time, it sounded... sad?

"I'm listening." The assassin spoke loud and clear, "What is it you want?"

"Come back." It called, another push against him, from a different direction this time, almost as if telling him the way to go. "Come back."

Talon's dark eyes narrowed, head lowering to hide them underneath the guise of his hood. He knew who was calling him; his heart was leaping at the chance to go back and see him. But for what?

Malzahar was dead.

"Why do you want me to come back? Aren't you dead?"Talon asked the wind, and the harsh gusts died down to a light breeze that blew gently against his cheeks.

"Come back."

Talon sighed at just how persistent it was being, clicking the tongue against the roof of his mouth as he tried to arrive at a decision. Part of him would find it to be a waste if he were to go back now, given the fact that he had killed the Prophet for the sole purpose of getting away from him. Yet... he found himself wanting to go back.

Just... to see for sure.

"Fine. Fine!" Talon growled, loudly, standing up in a huff and brushing himself off. "As long as you lead me there. This is absolutely ridiculous."

It spoke no more, only blew in a certain direction. The wind was agreeing to lead him towards Malzahar's hut, so that way he wouldn't get lost in the seemingly endless desert. At least he had a guide; even if he couldn't see it.

Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was dreadfully wrong.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter XI**

The home was the same as he remembered it, from the outside. Small, quaint, and welcoming. The soft rays of the morning sun cast a soft light on the rounded sandstone edges of the house, though as pleasing as it was to the eyes, it did little to soothe the nervousness that ran through Talon's veins.

Exhaling a deep breath, he tried to calm himself before he would move on.

Just reaching out to touch the cool metal of the door's latch left Talon's heart racing. What if Malzahar was still laying there, dead, just the way Talon had left him? What would he do then?

Surely there was a purpose for calling him all the way back here, if it really _was_ him in the first place... even Talon was beginning to have his doubts.

"...Here goes." Talon mumbled to himself, pushing the latch and pulling open the door. Just the creak of the wooden door made Talon jump, watching as bits of sand fell from their resting places between the aged wood.

Stepping quietly into the main room, Talon closed the door gently behind him. Everything seemed to be left as it was. Nothing had been moved at all – the fireplace still held hints of ash within it from the time Malzahar had lit it previously, and the couch held tiny bits of sand upon the cushions that had not been wiped off. Clearly, no one had been here since Talon had left it.

Which only worried him more.

Without waiting further, Talon took a step towards the hallway, the only sounds being that of the creaking floorboards as he walked. His heart was beating heavily in his chest as he approached the room where he had stayed, and ultimately taken Malzahar's life. The corner of the bed was visible from where he was currently, fingers unconsciously reaching for the dagger strapped at his side.

Then, his blood ran cold.

Upon stepping into the room, it was... neat. Everything seemed to have been cleaned, and Malzahar's body was not present on the bed. The sheets were nicely tucked around the mattress, pillows smoothed out and fluffed; there was not a single trace of blood anywhere in the room, and much less, any trace of the Prophet.

Talon's breathing began to grow heavy. He felt nervous, something felt very, very off that left him in a state of near panic. This had to be a cruel joke of some sort, he remembered killing Malzahar with the dagger strapped to his-

Gone.

Dark eyes stared blankly at his hip. The dagger was gone, his fingers were now gripping onto nothing. Vanished, into thin air – but, how?

He remembered touching it out of fear just moments ago. Surely he didn't drop it... right? Talon began to reason with himself within his mind, standing in place, but looking at every corner and nook of the room for anything out of place.

Yet, the one thing that scared him the most, was turning around.

He felt a presence; eyes were watching him like a hawk, watching every move he made, every small flex of each muscle. In one swift turn, Talon spun around, holding his breath with his hand in front of his face in a defensive stance. His eyes stared sharply down the still somewhat darkened hallway, gazing at each shadow that he could see.

Nothing.

Exhaling a breath he didn't know he was holding, Talon marched quickly from the room, nearly running for the door of the home.

He had to leave. His mind was panicking. Something was _dreadfully_ wrong and he didn't want to be here anymore.

Just as his hand touched the latch and pulled it to open the door, his panic immediately grew. The door wouldn't budge. Locked tight, and no matter how hard the assassin pulled, it refused to open; he was trapped.

His entire body was frozen; almost as if his limbs were affixed in their current position like mere statues. The assassin's eyes were wide, filled to the brim with fear as he heard a low chuckle from behind him. Then, a strong arm wrapped itself around his abdomen, followed by a hand gripping lightly around his throat.

"You did come back..."

Malzahar.

"You came back... and even returned my dagger, just as I was hoping you would. Ah, you have my cape too! I was wondering where it went."

His voice was playful, yet Talon was able to pick up on the sinister tone behind his words. The hand on his throat tightened, the arm around his torso pulling him back so he was attached to Malzahar like an iron clasp. The assassin's arms were limp at his side, unable to raise them, and he soon saw why.

Two portals were open beneath him, on either side. Long, purple and translucent tentacle-like arms were wrapped tightly around his wrists, keeping his arms forced down at his sides so he couldn't retaliate in any way. It was odd, how they didn't seem to even be felt upon his skin; yet, the tugging they were doing was certainly noticeable, and rendering his arms entirely useless.

"Honestly... I should kill you, right now, just as you did to me. But, I shall refrain. The Void wishes to do that itself." Talon heard the grin in Malzahar's voice, feeling the way his head rested upon his shoulder. "Did you not know? Upon harming one of the Void's prized possessions, it seeks revenge. Like a mother angered by the fact that one of her children has been bullied."

Talon gulped, groaning as Malzahar's fingers tightened further, beginning to choke him.

"It no longer desires you, nor your body. It wants nothing more to do with you; only to break you, and consume you." Malzahar whispered, placing a kiss on Talon's cheek as he chuckled, "Unfortunate. Everything would have went so much better, if you had just listened to me. You and I... we could have had _everything_."

"I'm sorry..." Talon gasped with what little breath he could manage, "M... Malzahar..."

"Tell me, Talon. Why is it you came back here?" The Prophet asked, ignoring the gasping of the assassin as he struggled to breathe, "granted, you made my job easier for me, as I would have found you either way... But, I am curious. Tell me."

The assassin closed his eyes, he would need to pull off some pretty good apologizing if he wished to perhaps even make it out of this alive.

"B...Because... I love you." Malzahar's grip eased slightly at that statement, Talon taking note of the small, sudden intake of breath from the Prophet. "I... regretted my decision. I couldn't stop thinking about you, and my heart ached... I... I just... I came back, because I love you."

The Prophet growled, a low, threatening growl that made Talon flinch.

"If you loved me, why did you _kill_ me?!" Malzahar's voice rose, no longer sounding venomous. Now, he sounded hurt.

"I was scared." Talon replied simply, and the grip on his throat eased further, enough for him to breathe properly. "I'm... so sorry..."

At once, Talon felt Malzahar leave him, and the portals below him close. The Prophet moved back against the wall, sliding down it into a sitting position. His hands were on either side of his head, and from the looks of it, he seemed to be deep in thought; or, at least, Talon took the confused and shocked expression on his face as being 'deep in thought'. Almost as though there were some form of inner conflict troubling his mind.

The assassin stood still, watching him in silence for a moment, before daring to move a bit closer.

He didn't speak words. Dropping to his knees in front of Malzahar, Talon leaned forward and pressed his body against him, wrapping his arms around his neck in a gentle hug. Actions spoke louder than words, or so the General always said.

In the back of his mind, he knew that this position could also easily allow Malzahar to take his life with the dagger he still held, if he so chose, but the assassin was willing to take that risk.

What Talon wasn't expecting, however, were the gentle hands that placed themselves on his back, just below his shoulderblades.

"Malzahar... I... I don't know why I chose that course of action. I just... didn't want to become something I'm not." Talon spoke softly, voice a hushed whisper as if telling the largest secret in the world. "I didn't want the Void to use me as its vessel... I didn't want-"

Talon was silenced as Malzahar rose his head and connected their lips together. The assassin blinked in surprise, and while he didn't mind the action in the slightest, it was a tad bit unexpected. Yet, he still found himself pushing back against the Prophet's lips with equal force, gripping onto his cheeks with his hands.

They stayed that way for a long, long while. Lost within each other's touch, and presence alone. It was a kiss that spoke enough words for both of them to understand; each of them knew why the other took the course of action that drove them to where they were now, and both knew that their actions may have been... selfish.

Selfish, and cruel; but they were both at a silent understanding of why things went the way they did.

The kiss was soon broken, their heads slowly pulling back ever so slightly away from each other as their eyes locked. The uncertainty that was once filling Talon's eyes had been erased entirely. For now, he was completely sure of himself, and decided to no longer fight against his heart's desires. If this was love he felt, there was no sense in running from it.

Their foreheads touched, and Talon's eyelids lowered until they closed entirely; he basked in the warmth that Malzahar had to offer him, hands resting gently upon his shoulders as he sat between his legs.

"I know." Began the Prophet, thumb caressing Talon's cheek in a gentle motion, keeping it just barely touching his warm skin. "I knew why you had taken that course of action. Yet, I was also rather upset with you... I allowed my own emotions to get the better of me, just as you had."

Talon's lips twitched down into a frown as he opened his eyes halfway, staring directly into the glowing orbs that were watching him delicately. Malzahar's eyes didn't avert themselves for a single second - it was as if Talon would disappear into thin air if he looked away, or even blinked. Unconsciously, Malzahar's arm tightened around Talon's back, pulling him forward until their torsos touched.

"I'm sorry. I probably scared you." Malzahar's chuckle was weak, eyebrows lowering in a gesture of concern, and regret, "this entire thing was... a mistake. I should have treated you better."

At once, Talon's movements snapped to life. Pulling their foreheads apart, the assassin shook his head, lowering it so his eyes were concealed by the shadow cast by his hood's hook. Though, the way his lips curved upwards into a warm smile certainly wasn't hidden from the Prophet, no matter how he tried to mask it.

"...Why are you smiling?"

"Something about hearing you apologizing for all of the trouble you've caused me is... funny." Talon snickered, "you honestly think an apology could make this better? Reverse all the wrongs, and the way you've made me feel?"

Malzahar remained silent, ethereal eyes staring at Talon in surprise and curiosity.

"You're mistaken." Talon growled, though the smile could be heard in his words alone, "You can't apologize and expect me to forgive you."

Malzahar was interested by his words, though also perplexed. Was it not an apology that Talon had wanted all along? After all, he had kidnapped him, and sentenced him to a cage for weeks on end – nearly sacrificed him to the Void, even.

Tilting his head slightly, the Prophet spoke. "I suppose... I cannot expect you to forgive me so easily."

"I will never forgive you, Malzahar." Talon immediately answered, not skipping a single beat. The smile still held on his lips, as though permanently affixed to his expression; admittedly, it was what had the Prophet in a state of confusion, given just how rare it was to see the Noxian smile so wide, especially given his words.

"I've fallen in love with you, so forgiveness isn't an option."

Talon's eyes drew towards the Prophet's face, watching the red splash onto his tanned cheeks as a blush crept to them. His eyes seemed to glow a bit brighter, meeting Talon's hawk-like stare as his head once again rose. It was time for Talon to make the move, this time.

Slowly, his head drew towards the Seer's, allowing his eyes to fall shut just before his lips brushed against Malzahar's. The Prophet didn't hesitate to return the gesture, pressing against Talon's lips with an equal amount of force. If he wished for him to, Talon would prove just how much he loved Malzahar, prove just how sorry he was for taking his previous course of action – it was the only thing he _could_ do, the only way to make things right again.

He'd show Malzahar how much he loved him through not only words, but also through his actions.

The kiss didn't last long, Talon soon pulling away in favor of trailing soft kisses along Malzahar's cheeks, trailing to his jawline and coming at a firm stop on his neck. Hooking his fingers over the line of his thick scarf, the assassin pulled it down in order to expose more of his neck. Enough to allow his lips free reign of wherever they pleased.

"How bold... have you finally gotten over your embarrassment, assassin?" Malzahar's lips formed a grin, receiving nothing but soft kisses on his neck in response, followed by gentle nips, "Just what happened to you, during your time away from me? Just a few days ago, you were too shy to even look at me as we kissed, and now, here you are taking the initiative."

The amusement that laced Malzahar's voice earned a warm huff of breath from Talon's lips as he pulled himself back, dark eyes narrowed into a sharp, serious gaze as he looked upon the Prophet. "Does this not satisfy you, then? Would you prefer me to be no more than a submissive fly that's caught in your web?"

Malzahar chuckled. "And if I would?"

"...Typical."

Talon let out a laugh, even if he knew Malzahar was most likely serious; he hadn't changed a bit, though it was to be expected. He hadn't left for too long, after all. Merely a day's time, if not slightly more.

Which, reminded him of a rather important question that he had been meaning to ask.

"Malzahar," Talon began, his hands resting idle on the Prophet's shoulders as his chocolate eyes stared directly into his glowing blue orbs, "why is it, that I was capable of killing you back there? You told me you were immortal, right?"

The Prophet stopped for a moment, his stare unfaltering for even a split second; even though his eyes were narrowed into a look of relaxation, Talon could still see the gears at work behind those blue orbs. It always took time, to receive an answer to some of his questions. Time, for the Prophet to choose the correct words to say.

He was just lucky Talon was a patient man.

"I _am_ immortal. No mere human magic or weapons are capable of killing me. You can stab me all you wish with, say, that armblade of yours – but I will not die. I will feel pain, but I will not die, as my body will not allow it. That is, unless..." Malzahar trailed off, once again going into thought.

"Unless...?"

"Unless the weapon is of Icathian origins. You stabbed me with my own blade, a gift that the Void had bestowed upon me the moment it made me its Prophet. Only beings from the Void, or weapons forged from its metals are able to put a dent in my body, or ultimately 'kill' me."

Talon seemed puzzled. If what he said were true, then why didn't he _stay_ dead in the first place? Granted, Talon was glad he was alive, but his explanation didn't make much sense when he thought about it.

"Then why are you alive, if I stabbed you through the neck with your own weapon?"

"Because the Void took pity on me. It felt the heavy weight of my heart, felt how it shattered upon being betrayed by you. So, it granted me a second chance, and my body was once more reborn. Not only that... but, it wanted revenge, and it knew I would be capable of extracting it."

Sliding himself off of Malzahar's lap, Talon seemed to shy away from the topic. Guilt was a rare emotion for him to feel, but over the previous hours, he had felt it so strongly he was sure it was leaking from his chest. Malzahar's words only fortified that feeling.

If anything, he didn't deserve Malzahar. Not after what he had done. In fact, he was surprised he was still alive, and not a bloodied heap on the living room flooring.

"You amaze me, Malz." Talon's voice was quiet, moving to sit so his back was against the wall, but close enough to Malzahar to still feel the heat radiating from his body. "You went against the Void's wishes in order to keep me alive. Just so we could be together. You spoke so highly of this place, of your rulers, and yet here you are, denying them just for me."

Talon almost couldn't believe it himself, but as that single arm slung itself over his shoulder and pulled his body over so his head rested against Malzahar's chest, he felt calm. Any sort of doubt, fear, or trouble that he held in his mind seemed to vanish almost instantly just from his partner's touches and gestures alone. It was odd to him, how Malzahar was capable of ridding him of so many doubts all at once, just by pulling him into a sloppy hug.

Odd, but also amazing, and definitely needed.

"Though the Void may wish to bring you to your knees and rip your heart from your chest, I do not hold those same wishes. I was very angry with you, yes... but I would never kill you. The act I pulled back there when you came back was merely a test, one to see if you were truly sorry for what you had done, _and_ if you were finally man enough to stop fleeing from your heart's wishes."

Once again, Talon heard the grin that tugged the corners of Malzahar's lips as he spoke. So, it was all an act? That at least explained a few things.

"I... see." Sighing, Talon pushed himself forward, breaking Malzahar's hold around his shoulders as he stood from the floor, eyes fixated on the far window. "So despite my mistake, you're willing to accept me, and forgive me? What if I do it again in the future? Does that not worry you?"

The Seer let out a breathy chuckle as he too rose up, looping his arms around Talon's neck. "It doesn't worry me, because I know you won't do it again. If you do... I will be sure to stop you, next time. Just don't expect to walk away so cleanly, without a punishment."

Talon scoffed, turning himself around so he was once again facing Malzahar, the Seer's arms sliding from his neck in favor of wrapping around his back. Raising his arms, he snaked them over the Prophet's shoulders, tilting his head very slightly to the side in a look of question. A punishment? Of what sort?

Although he was curious, that curiosity was soon masked by the feeling of Malzahar's lips once again crashing against his own. This kiss was a bit less sloppy than the last one, and a bit more heated, Malzahar taking extra care to pull Talon forward until he was bound against him like an iron clasp. Returning the action with his arms around Malzahar's neck, Talon allowed his eyes to fall shut, and once again let himself fall into the Prophet's touches.

Soon, his lips were forced upwards, Malzahar's tongue entering his cavern and beginning to taste. Talon felt the heat rise in his cheeks, along with the shiver that trailed down his spine as one of the Prophet's hands found the rim of his shirt and lifted it, trailing underneath in favor of properly feeling each muscle on his back. It was time to stop running from such things, and time to allow the Prophet to have his way.

If this relationship was going to work, Talon couldn't allow himself to continue to shove him away.

The passing minutes seemed like hours, Talon being so lost in the kiss that he had forgotten all about the time. Even as it ended with the Prophet pulling himself back, the assassin's eyes took a moment to actually flutter open; while they were shut, tiredness had overtaken him, and he soon came to the realization that he hadn't had a proper sleep the previous night. It took hours to traverse the desert sands and reach this hut, and his body was still fatigued from the trip.

Malzahar, seeming to notice this, chuckled as he slipped himself away from Talon's arms in favor of gently holding his hands. "Come, Talon. For now... I think we could both use a nice rest. I will speak with the Void later about this predicament, so if you once more wake up without me by your side, don't worry. I'll return, I promise."

Slowly, Talon managed a nod as his hands were tugged, leading him down the hallway towards the room that once felt like a cage. While he detested it at first and cursed the sandstone walls, he had actually grown rather fond of it over time. There was a particular charm about the place, one that he certainly wouldn't mind seeing for a much longer period of time.

Sliding himself onto the bed, Malzahar was quick to join him, enveloping his body in a warm embrace as the covers were tugged upwards over them. Once more, he felt relaxed; not a single care in the world plagued his mind as he allowed his eyes to shut, arms wrapping tightly around Malzahar to return the embrace. So long as the Prophet was next to him, Talon felt at ease.

Over the previous days, Talon realized just how much he _needed_ the Prophet. As he arrived in the desert on that fateful night, he never would have thought for a moment that it would have come to this. That he would allow himself to become so attached, that it physically pained him when they would part. Talon had never felt love before, not for a single moment in his life – until now.

Now, he'd fight through the underworld and back just to keep the Prophet by his side.


End file.
